


Holding on for dear life

by Rowena4queen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Dean, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Baker Dean, Baker Gabriel, Child Abandonment, Dean-Centric, Don't read if you're easily triggered, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Hospital, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Many Possible Triggers, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Writer Castiel, Younger Dean Winchester/Older Sam Winchester, ableism in chapter 21, and if it wasn't for all your comments i'd abandon it, but i love y'all too much, even if it'll probably take some time, no chapter specific trigger warnings, seriously, so I'm gonna pull through, this fic is a complete disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowena4queen/pseuds/Rowena4queen
Summary: 04/18: CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION This is the story of Dean.The story of Dean Winchester, of Dean Campbell and of Dean Singer.When he had been a child, Dean's own father had kidnapped him as an act of revenge against his ex-wife.Now, more than a decade later, Dean is finally free. He is settled with his foster parents and starts the long way of recovery.Facing his past, confronting his fears, fighting to regain what had taken from him for so long, he learns about family, he learns about love and most importantly, he learns about himself.A very dark destiel AU





	1. I froze in time

**Author's Note:**

> This verse is partially really dark.  
> There are no chapter-specific warnings, so please read the tags and the archieve warnings!
> 
> ...if you're still here, enjoy reading! :)

_“Such a pretty boy. These emerald eyes, so… pure. Aren’t you a pure little whore, boy? So innocent with your pouty lips and these freckles all over your rosy little cheeks. What, you don’t like your freckles? Oh boy, you are mine now, what you like or do not like is of no import at all. You are mine, these delicate freckles just prove it.”_

 

Dean woke with a jolt, for a moment surprised by the soft material underneath him, the clothes covering him. This is not how it was supposed to… oh.

With a silent groan, he laid back in his bed, still shaken by the memories that had so cruelly disrupted his sleep. Like many other mornings he took a second to feel relieved, a second to appreciate that they were just that, just another nightly terror. There were many things Dean tried to forget, especially those things that repeated themselves in his nightmares, those fragrances from what has happened back then. If there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he would not survive going through that again, ever. Those dreams were unpleasant but at least they reminded him of how good he had it here.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Son, you alright?”

Bobby Singer might not be Dean’s biological father, but he was the closest thing to a father-figure Dean ever had. It had taken him a while to stop jerking back whenever he was called _son,_ a title he hadn’t heard in over a decade, but Bobby and his wife kept reminding him of what a home felt like, a family, what it was like to be loved.

Another moment without a response went by, and Bobby knocked again: “Dean? I know you’re awake. You were screaming.”

Crap. Dean hated it when he screamed in his sleep, it always seemed to make his foster parents worry even more about him. He wasn't worth that worry.

Well, no point in playing asleep now. Dean knocked on the wood of his bed, knocked once, knocked twice. It was their way of communicating, a reminiscence from when they were al still learning ASL, an easy way to state simple answers. One knock for no, two for yes. 

“Okay, son. Just make sure you get outta bed, soon. Don’t wanna be late on your first day of work, do you?”, Bobby's voice echoed through the door.

Oh, damn’ it, crapcrapcrap. For a short, blissful time, Dean had forgotten what date it was, why he had dreaded waking up today. His first day of work, ever. It wasn’t a lot, neither was it well paid as he was just a 17-year-old dish washer, but helping at “Angel’s bakery” was a challenge he’d have to face one day either way. He knew that he couldn’t keep laying on Bobby’s wallet, and yet… work required communication and communication was hard, to say at least, for a selectively mute person with PTSD and multiple anxieties. At least his foster parents knew the owner and guaranteed Dean he’d be treated well.

“Dean?”

Oh right. Dean knocked twice again to ensure Bobby that he was fine. His therapist had told him he had to get out of his comfort zone, what better day to start than one starting with a nightmare, he thought bitterly as he made his way to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Dean was ready to go. Ellen and Bobby made him his favourite breakfast, pancakes, which he promptly wolfed down with a Xanax. Another one was safely tucked into his pocket, just in case, as he made his way to the garage to get his bike.

Normally, he would have loved to take the impala. She was one of his safe places, comforting him. But right now, he and Bobby did some work on her, so his baby had to stay covered.

“Angel’s bakery” was a little bakery in one of the allies that demerged from the main road. It was a charming place, old-fashioned and comfortable. The floor was covered with dark wood; a counter to the left, decorated with huge chandeliers over the vitrines, seemed to practically allure the customers to come and gaze at all the delicious looking goods. On the other side, there were tables, with many different chairs and armchairs, seemingly collected over the years and still fitting together in a perfect way. Book-shelves covered the wall, filled with little yellow reclams, huge antique looking books, some collections, hell, Dean even spotted a dictionary and all the _lord of the rings_ books through the window.

It should be corny, kind of cheesy, and yet, all the colourful furniture and decorations were chosen so carefully it actually looked really classy, even comfortable.

Dean appreciated the nice work-place, but of course this did nothing to calm his nerves as he made his way to the door. Breathing deeply, breathing in and out, he tried to regain his confidence. This was his task for the day. He could do it. He-

“Excuse me?”

With a jolt, Dean spun around. A small guy stood here, blond hair chaotic, as if ruffled, his hands full with two large boxes, a lollipop sticking in his mouth like a cigarette. The guy gave Dean a wide grin, then nodded towards the door: “Would you mind?”

Snapped out of his shock, Dean quickly turned to open the door and hold it open. He followed the man inside.

“Name’s Gabe, by the way, and I’m guessing that you are Dean-o?”

Dean could only nod.

“Well, welcome!  When Bobster told us that he had someone that could help us with our little bakery here, we just couldn’t resist. We only opened, like, a few weeks ago, my hot-shot hubby got some kind of boring lawyer job here that he always wanted so we just decided to make it a complete new start. Not that there was anything really binding us to Washington, you know? Only lived there for a year. Anyway, my brother was here in the beginning to help me, but he has a job on his own he'll soon have to get back to, and the boy that helped before is moving away, so we’re kind of short right now, which is where you” -he deposited the boxes on the counter, turned around and pointed at Dean- “come in. Seeing as your communications skills are worse than my brother’s, no offense, Bobster and I thought about starting you in the back. He told me you like to bake?”

Not even waiting for a response, Gabe sat on the counter, swung around and stepped back down behind it, where he grabbed a pair of scissors and opened the boxes. He started sorting through bags of colourful sprinkles and dark chocolate chips as he kept talking:

“So, your tasks will be the dishes- not really appealing I know but better you than me, hm?- and cleaning the kitchen. When you have time, I’d like you to try out a few recipes, maybe we could raise you to the new co-baker if that works out. Also, we need someone to clean after we close, so that will be your work, too. Acceptable, Dean-o?”

Dean could only blink. He hadn't known what to expect, but this was certainly not it. Not that Gabe didn’t seem like a nice person, but him talking in such a non-business way… Dean was relieved. This place was by far not as stiff as he feared, hell, he might even see himself feeling okay here.

With increasing confidence, he looked up at Gabe and nodded.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Dean fell back in his bed- exhausted, but strangely also kind of happy. He had been so worried because of today, but after having met Gabe, all this tension seemed senseless. Gabe was nothing like _him_.

After he was shown the back of the bakery, Gabriel promptly put him to work. Dean started with cleaning the dishes and the baking supplies, he cut apples for Gabriel’s apple pie, made some crumbles after a recipe given to him and then, again, cleaned the kitchen.

Only when he was ready to leave he realised that the bakery was closed that day. Gabe, noticing his questioning look, told him that he had wanted time to show Dean his future work place- also, he claimed to have a major hangover and just no patience for customers today. Dean doubted that, yet he was thankful and decided to shut up about it.

The day at the bakery had been a good one, with Gabriel chatting happily about his life, his husband, his family and Dean working happily whatever he was told to do. He hasn’t felt as successful since he had managed to get his GED a month back. All those hours spent learning at the Singer’s kitchen table, the courses he did online, the test he had been allowed to do at home- they were originally meant as a distraction, but they made Dean feel better than every therapist ever did. He managed to do that, just as he managed to ace at the first day of his job today.

Maybe, after all, he _was_ getting better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that's the first chaper. Please, tell me what you think!:)
> 
> It's only my second fanfiction ever and my first one with more than one chapter, so I kinda depend on your tips. Also, corrections of language are appreciated as English is not my first language nor is there a beta reader!
> 
> Also: I suck at titles, so I just decided that each one is from a Sia song. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading


	2. You should never see what's hiding out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat, a new chapter not even 24 hours later?  
> Jup, that one's on you!
> 
> I did not expect that much response, be it by leaving kudos, subscribing or even commenting- thank you so much! It feels awesome when someone appreciates your work, that was such a motivational boost for me :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

 

_“Dean, Dean, Dean. I thought I would have educated you better. Stop fighting, Baby, you know as well as I do that you want to submit, you want to obey my every word, you want to worship me. Let it go, Dean. You are mine now. And if you forget… I’ll just have to remind you, don’t I, baby?”_

 

His plan of sneaking out was quickly forgotten when Dean saw Bobby and Ellen sitting at the kitchen table, apparently just waiting for him. He slouched his shoulders and gave a devastated little good-morning-wave. They caught him.

“Good morning to you, too. Why don’t you come and sit with us for a second, honey?”, Ellen asked. Her voice was nothing like _his_ , yet, Dean’s mind was still trained to obey every command given. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and sat down, not without nervously fidgeting in his chair.

“Calm down, son, it’s nothing bad. We just have a few questions about your work.”, Bobby observed his shifting. Dean nodded, he was aware of the love his foster parents felt for him, yet he could not stop himself from obediently turning his gaze to the floor. Eye contact was a sign of rebellion.

Ellen sighed: “Honey, you know we love you. We are just worried, as always. Was your first day of work really alright? You were so tired yesterday, we didn’t want to bother you. Was Gabe okay to you?”

Dean slowly raised his hands, unsure whether he should sign or knock. Preferring a short answer, he softly knocked on the kitchen table, twice for yes.

“That’s great, honey! And you’re sure you’re ready for it?”

This time, Dean knocked twice with more confidence. He loved the time spent at the bakery the day before and did not want to leave room for interpretation that might make him loose his new found safe space again.

“Son, we don’t want to take anything from you, you know we just want you to be happy. But ever since we made that arrangement, you take your meds more often and your nightmares are way more frequent than they used to be- and don’t even give me that look, we know you had another one this night, we heard you! If it’s too much pressure right now, I’m sure Gabriel would be alright with you starting in a few weeks or maybe even…”

This finally had Dean snapping out of his obedient behaviour. He violently shook his head, knocked once, hard on the table and signed. Flat hand on his chest, moving in a clockwise motion, again and again. _Please._ At the doubting expressions meeting him, he added _I need this._ And because it couldn’t hurt to repeat it, _please!_

Ellen and Bobby exchanged glances, having one of their internal conversations. In the end, Bobby nodded: “Alright, son. We won’t keep you from going to work any longer. Just remember, there’s no shame in saying that you need more time!”

Dean smiled shyly. He stood up and already wanted to turn for the door when he quickly blew a kiss to each of them. _Thank you._

Ellen clearing her throat made him stop again: “Aren’t you forgetting something?” At Dean’s confused gaze she went to the counter and threw a brown bag at him. It took him both hands to catch it. “Breakfast, Dean. If you take a Xanax, you better have something in your stomach. Now go, have a nice day honey! We’re proud of you.”

Dean blew her another kiss, waved goodbye to Bobby and started his way to the bakery. While eating his sandwich, he couldn’t stop the shy smile on his face. He was just so damn lucky to have Bobby and Ellen.

 

* * *

  

This morning, Dean had been so confident. He had known what he achieved the day before and he had known that he could achieve even more today. But now, standing in front of “Angel’s bakes”, fear dominated his thoughts. What if Gabe expected him to do better today? What if he couldn’t meet his expectations? He shouldn’t even try, he knew he’d just mess up, he wasn’t even worth the attention. _He_ always told Dean not to get his hopes up, he should have just listened, he-

Panic started to run through his veins, paralyzing him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t-

Air, Dean needed to breath-

Dean took a step back. Another one. He was ready to run, when suddenly, a firm body bumped into him from behind. It was all his panic needed to evolve into a full-blown panic attack.

He sank to the floor, eyes wide, mouth agape. When strong hands gripped him tight, trying to help him up, he only jerked back harder. A deep, rumbling voice was saying something, then yelling. Another, lighter one was added, a head with floppy blonde hair caught in his blurred gaze.

He was back in the basement-

His master was unhappy with him. He disobeyed. Dean once again proved how-

He shouldn’t, Dean shouldn’t-

Everything was fuzzy, he couldn’t think, he had less and less space he needed more-

Dean needed-

 

Blue. Blue eyes capturing his. Blue eyes not leaving his for a moment.

“Dean, I want you to listen to me. Listen to me! I want you to try and focus. Do you hear my voice? Focus on it, on my face, on my hands on your face. Your name is Dean Singer, you are sitting in front of Gabriel’s bakery, you work there. Whatever you see is not true, I need you to focus on what you actually see! You see me, Castiel, I am Gabriel’s brother. Gabriel is standing behind me; do you see him? Yes? Good, Dean, that’s good. Do you feel the wind? It’s cold today, isn’t it? Maybe tomorrow you can help Gabriel to bring the chairs outside back inside? I doubt that many people want to sit outside after November, what do you mean?”

Dean could only blink as a response. Yeah it was cold. He even said so, pulling his arms to his chest, forming his hands into fist, shaking them as if he was shivering from the cold. The guy chuckled:

“Yeah, that’s right, it’s cold. How about we go inside, warm you up?”

The guy seemed to sense that Dean was too numb right now to really process information, because he lifted his hands from where they still cupped Dean’s cheeks and carefully came from kneeling in front of him to sliding an arm against him from the side, lifting him up, directing him inside the bakery. He led him to the room in the back where Gabe was wordlessly handing him a mug of something hot.

Dean was still too shaken to realise what was going on, which is why he was really glad when the brothers distracted him with stupid small talk. Gabe told him and that Cas-guy about a new recipe for popcorn-cupcakes. That Cas-guy answered with a story about his publicist, a dude named Chuck, who wanted to make him delete an entire chapter just because one character said something against Christianity. What a dick!

Apparently, not only Dean thought so, but Gabe too, as he promptly stated: “What an asshole! Don’t take it personal, you know that assclown is just jealous because he never made it to an actual author.”

A cough disrupted their comfortable little round: “Language, Gabriel Novak! There is a kid attending”

Gabe’s face turned an interesting shade of red, while Cas just turned around and with a small chuckle responded: “Hey Ellen. You’re here for Dean, I assume?”

Oh. Right. As joyful as the last ten minutes of brotherly bickering were, as much had they a serious origin attached. They really did a good job with the distraction.

Dean only needed to glance at Ellen’s face to see the sadness in it. He quickly looked down again. It was so typical, that he just had to bring the people closest to him down with him. Bobby and Ellen didn’t deserve this, they were good people-

“Dean was really brave today. I was so caught in a new idea with my head in the clouds, that I totally ran him over. I apologise Dean, that happens more often than I feel comfortable admitting. Once, Gabriel tried a new recipe in our kitchen and I, with my face in a book, walked into him! There was flour everywhere, and I swear I still washed these awfully colourful sprinkles out of my hair a week later!”

“Served you right!”, Gabriel promptly shot back, “you and your artistic phases are a menace for society.”

Ellen chuckled: “Nana boys, don’t argue. And don’t worry Cas, no harm done. But we should go home now, right Dean? Bobby makes us burgers, there is no way we’d wanna miss that! Bye boys, thanks for calling.”

Ellen had quickly learned that Dean did not like to be touched without a warning, and he was even more jumpy after a panic attack, so she held out her arm for him to take when he was ready. As often when Dean just came back from his headspace, he was pliant and numb, following her like a lost puppy.

Which is why she was even more surprised when Dean stopped by the door. He lifted his gaze from the floor, to Ellen, then back to the floor. Chewing on his bottom lip, Dean turned around. He raised his hand -the one not currently held by Ellen- and lifted it to his lips. With a shy smile, that did not quite meet his eyes, he looked at Cas and blew him a kiss.

_Thank you._

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”, Castiel answered.

And this time, Dean’s smile actually reached his eyes. He turned around and with a speechless Ellen in tow, left the bakery.

 

* * *

 

At home, Dean decided to miss out on the burgers, too tired from the morning. He went straight to bed, his thoughts occupied with the picture of blue eyes.

Dean had no nightmare that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please tell me what you think and if you spot any mistakes, especially concerning the language. Thank you:)


	3. The wisdom of the fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, normally, I am not a fan of chapters that just repeat the plot of the previous chapter but with a different point of view, and I promise you that this is the only time I'll do it in this story! It just worked soo good here to introduce Castiel and a little bit of his background that I couldn't resist...
> 
> Sorry that there isn't really a lot of new plot, I hope you enjoy reading anyhow!

Castiel had never been a fan of the psychology courses he had to take in college. The prof was just plain boring and most of the other listeners were too caught up in planning to become the new Freud than actually listening to what was said. Well, neither did he to be honest.

Because Cas thought that he already knew how to get someone to calm down. He knew, what to do when somebody had a panic attack, as he had seen enough of them during his summer job at the Child Protection Services just a few years ago. He also knew that every person needed individual care, that generalisation only lead to the person concerned feeling even less appreciated.

And yet, in this very moment in front of the bakery, he had never been more grateful for the hours he once thought of as wasted.  

Castiel felt it the second the boy tensed, he saw his saucer-eyed face, heard him hyperventilating and he immediately knew that what this boy suffered from was a full-blown panic attack.

“Oh my, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you Gabriel’s new employee?”, he tried to distract the boy, to keep him from falling too deep into the panic. The boy just kept sinking to the cold ground, his knees pulled to his chest, gangly arms hugging them closer, his back to the stone wall of the bakery. His breathing became flatter and more and more desperate.

Cas quickly yelled for his brother, which only made the boy jerk back even harder. Nevertheless, body contact often helped as he remembered. He kneed in front of the boy, searching his face as if he could find an answer on how to help him in his terrified expression.

“Cassie, why are you- oh shit what, what do you need?”, Gabriel stuttered.

“Who is he?”

“Dean Singer, he’s my new employee. His foster dad told me that he wasn’t, that something like this, that-“

Cas interrupted: “Go and call his family and prepare something sugary for him, he’ll need it. Now, Gabriel, go!”

As Gabriel ran back inside, Cas took a deep breath: “Dean? Dean do you hear me? Gabriel calls your family, they’ll be here soon, you’ll be alright.”

It didn’t appear like his words reached Dean, though. Okay, new try. Maybe Dean needed a visual safety point? Cas inched closer until his face was in front of Dean’s, he cupped his cheeks and forced the frightened boy to look at him. W

“Dean, I want you to listen to me. Listen to me! I want you to try and focus. Do you hear my voice? Focus on it, on my face, on my hands on your face.”

Dean started to blink faster, green eyes moving frenetically. It seemed to help him so Cas kept going:

“Your name is Dean Singer, you are sitting in front of Gabriel’s bakery, you work there. Whatever you see is not true, I need you to focus on what you actually see! You see me, Castiel, I am Gabriel’s brother. Gabriel is standing behind me; do you see him?”

This seemed to work, Dean’s eyes settled on him, didn’t leave his gaze. To his surprise, Dean even managed to make a weak nod. Castiel let out a sigh of relief, he had the boy with him, now it was time for the distraction.

“Yes? Good, Dean, that’s good. Do you feel the wind? It’s cold today, isn’t it? Maybe tomorrow you can help Gabriel to bring the chairs outside back inside? I doubt that many people want to sit outside after October, what do you mean?”

Wow, Cas, great job, talking about the frigging weather as a distraction! But Dean seemed to respond to it, untangling his arms, pulling them to his chest and moving as if he actually shivered. It hit Cas like an epiphany- Dean was mute! He was signing his answer, that’s why he didn’t answer earlier!

His own silence seemed to last too long, Dean was beginning to squirm again. He tried a reassuring chuckle: “Yeah, that’s right, it’s cold. How about we go inside, warm you up?”

Dean nodded, yet he did not make a move. Cas carefully took a step back, he lifted his hands from Dean’s cheeks and tugged an arm around his back. He gently helped the shivering boy up and lead him towards the bakery. Dean kept being shockingly numb and he was glad to see that Gabriel, who went back inside as soon as he saw Dean responding, was waiting for them with a huge mug full of something steaming and probably overly sugary in his hands. With his free hand, he signalled Cas that Dean’s family would arrive in 10 minutes. Cas questioningly nodded towards the back room, was it okay to bring Dean there? Of course, Gabe gave a reassuring smile.

They lead Dean to one of the big, comfy armchairs in Gabriel’s office, where the boy immediately curled around himself, searching the warmth of the mug held in both of his hands. He looked so passive, with his eyes on the floor, his head bowed, that Cas couldn’t stop the pity from spreading in his heart. He wanted to help that boy!

But right now, they had bigger problems, as Dean still was not quite over the attack. Like he had learned it in college all those years ago, he kept distracting him, kept telling funny stories, bickering with Gabe. The whole scene was surprisingly… comfortable. Once Dean managed to relax a bit, he might even have let out a little huff when Cas talked about his latest problems with Chuck. Castiel wasn’t sure, maybe he had just imagined it, yet the boy looked way better now.

When it was Ellen Harvelle, now apparently Ellen Singer, who turned up to bring Dean home, Cas couldn’t stop the little smile that spread in his face. He liked Ellen, after all she was did not just mentor his summer job at CPS, but also convinced him to study it and mentored him during the 18 months he ended up working there. She was quite the motherly figure and perfect for every child who needed help, perfect for Dean.

Talking about, he glanced a view to him and oh fuck, no, the boy started tensing again. Cas quickly decided not to let Dean back in his headspace:

“Dean was really brave today. I was so caught in a new idea with my head in the clouds, that I totally ran him over. I apologise Dean, that happens more often than I feel comfortable admitting. Once, Gabriel tried a new recipe in our kitchen and I, with my face in a book, walked into him! There was flour everywhere, and I swear I still washed these awfully colourful sprinkles out of my hair a week later!”

“Served you right!”, Gabriel promptly shot back, “you and your artistic phases are a menace for society.”

Of course, Ellen realised what he was doing. After all, she was the one who told him that distraction was the best help you could sometimes give a panicking child. She chuckled: “Nana boys, don’t argue. And don’t worry Cas, no harm done. But we should go home now, right Dean? Bobby makes us burgers, there is no way we’d wanna miss that! Bye boys, thanks for calling.”

And with that, she held out her hand for Dean to take. The boy only hesitated a split second, Ellen’s reassuring, gentle smile convincing him. He followed her out of the bakery, and Cas was… he was glad, that Dean was getting better but seeing him go? That made him feel kind of sad.

He was ready to turn to Gabriel and thank him for his support, when Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He seemed unsure, self-conscious, his head still bowed. But with a sudden determination, he lifted his free hand to his lip and- blew Castiel a kiss. Now, his ASL might have been rusty, but even he knew what that sign meant. Dean was thanking him.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

And the smile that Dean gave him after that statement- that smile made the stress of the previous hour totally worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel and he decided to close the bakery early that day, both too busy thinking about Dean. They went home, quietly, each one processing what happened that day on the short way to Cas’ house:

Gabriel promptly went into the kitchen to help his husband Sam with dinner. Castiel heard them talking, talking about Dean, but he did not want to hear it.

Cas didn’t join his family for the evening. He went straight into his room, closed the door behind him and laid on his bed.

Castiel did not know Dean Singer, but something about the boy caught his attention. He hoped to see him again, hoped that he could help him. It seemed unfair for someone like Dean to suffer, he thought, ignoring the fact that he just met the boy.

Castiel dreamed about greens eyes that night.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please tell me what you think and if you spot any mistakes, especially concerning the language. Thank you:)  
> The next chapter will have more new plot than this one, I promise!
> 
> Also: I try and update as often as I can right now, because now I have the time to do so. My plan is to keep going like this for the next one and a half weeks before college starts again. We'll see how it works then, but I'll tell you when I have found a schedule for uploading new chapters. 
> 
> Oh and another thing: I have tumblr! Same name, here's a link:  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crowley4queen  
> There is not a lot going on there but if you want to write me and give me tipps or ideas or whatever, it would make me really happy :)


	4. You keep me silent when I should shout out

Dean’s sleeping cycle was messed up. Too often was he awake at night after a nightmare, too shaken to calm his mind again. Him being awake this night- it was no wonder considering he slept all the afternoon.

Dean woke up to a dark and quiet house. A glance at his clock told him that is was just shortly after midnight; he could even hear Bobby’s soft snoring on his way to the kitchen. They left him a note on the counter saying that there was a burger for him in the fridge. Dean wasn’t hungry.

His mind was too occupied, too caught up with this very special shade of blue…

As he did with most of his restless nights, Dean chose to spend the time until his parents would wake up in the garage. Baby was there, and in baby, he had his sketch block. It was like a safe space in a safe space, a place with no bounds, no doubts, most of the times not even real thoughts. Dean could just loose himself in reverie, his hands doing the work for him. Sometimes he didn’t even know what he was drawing until it was already on the paper.

Sighing, Dean climbed into the driver’s seat, getting his utensils out of the glove compartment. He turned on the old radio that was also tucked in there, leaned back and let his subconsciousness take over.

_Carry on my wayward son…_

 

* * *

 

 

Dean didn’t come back to awareness until it was already morning. The rays of sunlight shone through the small windows of the garage, blinding him for a second.

Dean blinked and, in order to stretch his stiff neck, rolled his head a bit. His gaze fell on Ellen, standing in the doorway and smiling softly at him. He gave her a shy wave, to which she responded with signing:

_You coming in, honey?_

Dean’s smile widened. Ellen was the only one who ever talked to him in sign language, and while she claimed that it was to practise understanding him, Dean knew that she did it to make him feel better, not like the freak he was. Her signing was messy, unclear, and yet Dean recognised the warm feeling in his chest he felt every time she signed “honey”. She had changed it slightly, not only touching her chin with the tips of her fingers, redrawing to close her fist, and repeating the motion again, she also added a third movement- the thank you gesture. It took Dean a while to understand what she meant with this strange motion, but since he realised that she added the intimate kiss to make the nickname more personal, more fitting to how she felt about Dean, he pressured the cherished like only little other things.

 _Give me five minutes_ , he signed before Ellen retreated.

Only now did Dean look down at the drawing in his hands and his smile was replaced with a frown. He did not recognise that person.

There was a head of messy dark hair, the head tilted to watch something behind him. The man wore a trench coat, a white dress shirt with a dark tie. Light space behind him looked like a halo, and the massive wings proved Dean’s assumption that he drew an angel. He had always been kind of obsessed with them.

The drawing was… strange. He kept the colours simple, light, dark and brown. And yet, it somehow showed- hope?

Dean quickly retreated, too afraid with how his drawing made him feel. It had happened before: Him drawing someone from his past he did not want to remember and having a panic attack when he realised who it was.

He shut the drawing block and went out of the car, his parents were waiting for him after all.

 

* * *

 

 

When he came into the kitchen Dean couldn’t supress a little smirk- it was just too much of a déjà-vu to see Ellen and Bobby sitting there, watching him expectantly. It only took the worry in their eyes for his smirk to die. This was his fault.

In the past, when Dean was in a flee-or-fight situation, there was no question what he would decide to do. The people in the hospital, the authorities, his foster parents- they have all seen what had happened in the past when Dean fought back. Hell, even Dean was still reminded of it every time he saw the scars, the burn marks, the still angry red skin in the mirror.

It took long for Dean to “learn how an obedient whore behaves”, he thought bitterly. In the end, he nearly gave up, convinced that he had nothing more to fight for than life itself and frankly, his life was really not that pleasurable at that time.

This here- this was different. Because Dean did have something to fight for. Yes, yesterday was a throwback, but he liked the time spent at the bakery. More so, he needed it! Dean needed another project to distract him, to make him cross his own limits, to make him feel useful again. Which is why he decided that this was worth fighting for, fuck the consequences.

He went to Ellen, who stood up when he came closer, probably thinking that Dean needed some kind of help. Instead, he wrapped her in a tight hug, clinging to her for a second, before he drew back and signed: _Thank you for yesterday. I’m sorry for making you worry, but I’m fine now. I promise._

Taken aback by the frankness in his manner, Bobby raised his eyebrows, Ellen gave him a once over, both not sure how to treat this side of Dean they had never seen before. Dean knew it was new for them. He had never spoken when he wasn’t spoken to, had never made a move towards them, rarely ever searched their contact unless his meds made him overly emotional or the nightmare was a really bad one.  His whole acting was adapted to _his_ standards.

Dean being like this, like a normal person- he understood why it took them a second to answer.

“Son…”, Bobby started, but Dean interrupted him:

 _I know what you want to say, it doesn’t change that I am thankful. Neither does it change my opinion from yesterday. This job is new and a challenge for me, but please, I really need this! So, if Gabe still wants me-_ he swallowed, he hadn't even thought about how his employer might react- _If he still lets me work for him, I will go there._

“Of course, he still wants you, honey. He called to make sure you’re alright and told us that he had a new recipe for cinnamon buns or something that he wanted your view on.”, Ellen interjected softly.

Dean let out a little sigh of relief and sent her a small smile.

“Nor do you have to worry about us making decisions for you, Dean. You still want to go to the bakery- you do so. We only have a few conditions.”, she went on.

“We want you to talk about everything new that happens in your life, so you would have to go to Crowley twice a week- “

Dean’s silent groan made Ellen stop. Bobby smirked: “What an elegant way to state your opinion, son! We know you don’t like your therapist sessions, but they are important for you. So, if you want to work with Gabe, it’s twice the Crowley now.”

Dean still was annoyed, but he nodded. He could do that.

“And our second term is for you to bring something home every evening for dessert for your loving parents.”, Bobby added with a grin, which made Ellen shoot a desperate look towards the ceiling.

Dean was too confused to react to it: _That’s all? All your terms?_

“We already told you that we want you to be happy. These terms are not there to regulate or monitor you, they should help you. We already see how much you enjoy your job, talking to Crowley and making your beloved father happy, that’s quite bearable, isn’t it, son?”

Now, Dean couldn’t hide the grin.

Only later he realised that this was the first time he took a chance in the one year of freedom he had now. Considering the reward, he might be able to do so more often.

 

* * *

 

He wouldn't do so more often. 

Bobby and Ellen insisted for Dean to take the day off, because before he’d go back to work, they wanted him to meet Crowley.

Dean dreaded his time with the British therapist. While everyone told him that it was normal to have trust issues in his situation, that it would take a few months until he would get to know and confide in him, he just didn’t _want_ to open up to him. Something was off with the douchebag.

It started with the lack of light in his office. There were two dark armchairs in front of a dark table with a dark throne-like chair behind it, where Crowley sat like a king. The book shelves were covered in dark wood, the floor was a dark red carpet and the windows had dark curtains, shutting out most of the light. It was what Dean imagined the office of the King of Hell to look like, to be honest.

The next thing was Crowley’s attitude. If there was a person who loved hearing himself talking, it was him. His whole act was just that- an act. There was no fidelity in him, no authenticity, no real cordialness. He was the exact opposite of the little Singer Family Dean became so used to.

But the worst thing of all was how Crowley treated Dean. He sat in his high throne, looked at the skinny boy in the way too big armchair, looked at him like you look at a cockroach, like Dean was a stupid infant and he was the saint to cure him. Dean constantly felt judged, and even after the whole year he went to Crowley, he hadn’t even told him half of it.

Yet, it made Ellen and Bobby happy. Which is why Dean shut up and came back to the douchebag weekly- well, twice a week now.

 

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Dean?”, the therapist in question asked, not managing to ban the boredom completely out of his voice.

A head-shake. _No._

“Are you sure? Not even about your new job?”

Dean just shrugged.

“Alright, another topic then. How’s it going with the talking?”

Dean, his head as most of the time obediently bowed, shot Crowley a dirty look. How did the bastard think it was going, damn it.

“Uh, rebellious today, isn’t he?”, Crowley sounded unimpressed.

That brought him back down fairly quickly. Right. He shouldn’t forget his place, he was here to get help, not to become like he was before, like-

“Stop it. I know your mind palace must be a pretty place, but this is not what you are here for.”, Crowley ordered harshly.

Dean just stayed still. Maybe if he did nothing, he did nothing wrong either.

“You don’t want the Singers to know how bad you are doing, do you? You do know what happens to disobedient children? Answer me, boy!”, the man nearly shouted now.

Shaking, Dean gave a quick nod. Yes, he knew that. He knew that all too well.

“Right. Now, tell me about that job of yours or prepare yourself to lose it again.”

So, Dean did. He signed as much innocuous, meaningless stuff as it came to his mind. He really did not want to talk about Gabe, or worse Cas or how he helped him. He was not ready to give that up to Crowley yet.

Luckily for him, the therapist didn’t even seem to completely listen. Happy with how compliant Dean became, he nodded, asked senseless questions, wrote something down. This play went on for quite long, until Crowley interrupted him.

“Now Dean, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I hope this positive experience shows you that you can tell me more. Tell me about what happened to you, why you are here. Until then”, he gave Dean an obnoxious grin, “know that I am always there for you.”

Dean nodded, stood up and made his way to the door.

“What, no thank you today? After I helped you so much?”

Dean pretended not to have heard and fled the office. There was no way he would make such an intimate gesture to someone like Crowley. It took him months to do it for the first time, and even now, he used it scarcely. He preferred thankful looks or whatever.

The kiss was only for people he cared about, Dean thought as he walked out of the building and to his bike.

 

In his heart, Dean knew that Crowley was wrong. He knew that he was allowed to question things, to be a tad rebellious or to simply relax. But years of punishment have done a number on him.

 

First, John, filling the earliest memories of his childhood with bruises and broken limbs.

 

Then... then  _him._

 

Dean felt his heartbeat fastening.

Outside, it was getting dark, the sky turning into a somehow familiar shade of blue.

Dean stood still for a minute, staring at the sky and calming himself.

 

And surprisingly, it worked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the panicking scene was hard to write, but that conversation with Crowley? It sucks to hurt a character like Dean... but fear not, better times will follow!  
> Dean's painting is inspired by this one: http://anobviousaside.tumblr.com/post/96320199839/8-31-14
> 
> Side note:I won't be uploading the next few days, with Silvester and birthdays and the new Sherlock season coming up. But I do intend to get as much work done in the holidays as possible so I'll probably be back soon ;)
> 
> As always, please tell me what you think and if you spot any mistakes, especially concerning the language. Thank you:)


	5. My heart screams out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! I hope you had fun celebrating that 2016 finally ended ;)

Castiel avoided the bakery for the next few weeks. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about Dean- quite the opposite actually. He had only met the boy once, yet he couldn’t stop himself from asking Gabe about his wellbeing on a daily basis. His brother knew him, knew that caring was one of his essential character traits, but also knew that it was Cas’ Achilles’ heel. Which is why one day after Cas had once again greeted him with “how’s Dean?”, he called him out on it.

“Cas, dude, the boy is fine. He’s adapting to the new situation and I’m sure it isn’t sugar licking for him, but he is okay!”, he said, shrugging off his jacket.

“Gabe, I just- “, Cas started to justify, but his brother interrupted.

“No, you don’t _just._ We already had to go through that once with- “

Now it was Cas who interrupted; he took a step forward, his voice cold as ice, eyes shining with anger as he yelled: “Don’t you dare bring Claire into this! You do not have the right to use her against him. Not that it would matter, this is completely different!”

Gabe held up his arms in surrender. He knew he went too far with that one, but he needed his little brother to understand his sorrow: “Okay, okay, calm down. I get it, I already told you. I understand why you did it. But this does not change that you are doing it again! Don’t lie to yourself, Castiel, I know that behaviour. You become too attached too quickly again, sacrificing yourself for some kid you barely even know!”

Cas lost the angry demeanour, realising that Gabe only wanted to help him. He appreciated it, he really did, and yet…

“I just want to help him, Gabe.”, he sighed.

“We get that Castiel”, a voice interjected from the doorway. Sam had apparently heard the entire conversation, because he went on: “It is what you do, and by all means, it is nothing to be ashamed of. But you have to keep your priorities in mind. Gabe is right, we can’t have what happened the last time repeat itself. Neither of us. Just… just take your time, man. Take a step back, concentrate on publishing your new book, that should be enough stress for you. And then, you come to the bakery, you talk to that Dean and you convince yourself that he is fine. Alright?”

“Alright”, Cas parroted. He knew that there was no point arguing with both Sam and Gabe.

“Alright”, Sam, too, repeated. “Now, Gabe, take off your shoes, I’m not cleaning up after you again. And Cas, your publisher called, he sounded very stressed out, call the poor guy back for once! Dinner is on in ten.”

Having left his commands, Sam made his way back to the kitchen, leaving the brothers alone in the hallway. They shared a look.

“I can’t wait to get my damn’ house back for me alone”, Cas muttered, turning towards his office.

“Please, you love us, baby bro, and you know it!”, Gabe yelled behind him.

Cas waved him off, but even he had to admit, it was true. Since Sam and Gabe moved here from Washington, he had enjoyed their company. It wasn’t forever, just until they found their own house, but right now as everyone was comfortable with the agreement, there was no reason for them to hurry.

And when he was completely honest with himself, Cas was glad to have a way to repay Sam and Gabe. They had helped him during the whole court case two years back, and when he was close to giving up, they had pulled him back up, strengthened his back. He owed them big time, and this? It was no question that they could stay as long as they wanted to.

 

* * *

 

 

Either way, Cas did not mean it when he had agreed to Sam, back then in the hallway. He mostly wanted to flee the conversation, this just seemed to be the easiest way out.

The only problem was that the universe seemed to agree with Sam, because over the next weeks, Cas hasn’t even had a chance to go back to the bakery. His second book was finally published, and while he had thought that the process of publishing the first one was already nearly too much, this one seemed even more intense.

It came with his field of writing: Cas’ first book was about her, Claire, the innocent child he tried to help, betrayed by the Child Protection Services, by the system. It was the case that cost his job, and as Gabe used to say, huge parts of his sanity- but it also gave him a new job and more importantly a new destination. Castiel wrote down her story, underlining it with facts, statistics, stories from witnesses and finally his own experiences. In the end, the response was overwhelming. Interview after interview, reading after reading, singing after signing- his calendar was full. He had a lot of positive answers, people who wanted to help, foundations and campaigns even forcing the government to change the child welfare agendas and regulations in the end. Yet, there were also a lot of negative replies.

His second book was no different: The person who allowed him to write her biography this time, a young woman called Meg, had extremely bad experiences with religion, which Castiel did not want to undermine. His words were controversial, and many conservatives called him and Meg liars.

Working with Meg was always a difficult task. Cas was convinced that it was because she had never learned how to handle her feelings that she was always either extremely angry, nearly aggressive or sassy and joking and actually relaxed. The challenging part was that there were many things to trigger her mood swings.  Way too many.

It was understandable considering her history. Meg had been part of a cult for her entire childhood. Her mother brought her to them, convinced that her 5-year old daughter was possessed by the devil, begging them to “heal her”. They have never seen each other again. It had been Lillith, the wife of the cult’s leader, ironically called Lucifer, that raised her. Meg grew up in a world of pain, punished for every behaviour that gave them a reason to hurt the child, every mistake, no matter how natural the behaviour was for someone her age.

There was a lot more to her past, but more important was that once she was freed -a raid that was originally meant because of suspected drug dealing- she found no peace. Meg had met other cults, other abused kids, and she wanted to help them, wanted to raise the awareness of them. Nobody listened to her at first, not wanting to believe that somebody used the Christian religion as a justification for such horrendous crimes. Which is why she eventually turned to Cas’ publisher.

Working with her had been difficult, and while Castiel did not regret deciding to accept her request, he was glad that it was finally over. The book had been written, edited and published and now it was time for the hypocrites to crawl out of their holes and call Meg, a woman who made it her goal to prevent children from living through the same horrific past as she did, a liar. Just the thought made Cas sick.

He had to talk to her, ask her how far he could go without revealing her identity, which is why, a month after having met Dean, he found himself back at the bakery for the first time.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg greeted him with a wave, a sassy smirk on her lips. It must have been one of her good days. Her long brown hair framed her face in big waves, her eyes the same dark shade, were twinkling with mischief. She chose a desk by the window, knowing that Cas loved watching the people that went by. He smiled back, shrugged out of his trench coat and sat down to her opposite.

“My, my Clarence, how long has it been?”

“Hello, Meg. How are you?”, Cas responded kindly. As difficult as she was, he became quite fond of Meg. Seeing her doing so good under the pressure of her biography being published- it was a relief for him. And it was certainly a good sign that she was using that nickname he still didn’t quite understand.

“Oh, same old, same old. But what do you say, why don’t we cut the pleasantries and you tell me why you really honour me with your presence?”

Cas groaned. He did not want to do this.

“Can’t I order some coffee first, please?”

Meg responded with laughing.

 “You still can’t function without your caffeine, hm? Hey, Gabe!”, her voice grew louder, “your brother needs his fix.”

“Coming, sweetheart.”, Gabe yelled from somewhere behind the curtain that separated the kitchen from the sitting area.

“You two are not a good combi. I should have never introduced you to each other!”, Cas muttered.

“Oh, Clarence, don’t be like this. We have enough serious business to talk about, laugh a little.”

Cas gave her an assessing look: “How come you are so relaxed? You did read the article, didn’t you? I expected you to be angry, or at least upset, but relaxed? That does not seem like you.”

Meg’s laughter died. She leaned back in her chair, looked to her left, until her gaze landed back on Cas.

“Look Clarence, I know this is a hard time for you. But me? I have no reason to be pissed, not at all! For a whole damn year, I shouted myself raw to get somebody to listen to me, to help. Now? They do so.” She shrugged, her leather jacket straining over her thin shoulders. “Look at it like this: The more answer, the more response, the more attention. Negative publicity is still publicity. And the more the people in the high offices are confronted with the backwards opinion of some of idiots, the more they realise that change is in need.”

“These people called you a liar, they- “

“I have been called worse and you know that”, she interrupted.

Cas became cutty, his voice raising: “Meg, this is not your life anymore! For god’s sake, when will you finally honour yourself like you deserve it?! You are strong, and although you keep playing this stupid charade, I know how kind you are, even altruistic. Stop treating yourself like they did!”

Meg’s eyes turned icy, she leaned over the desk and yell-whispered angrily: “No, Castiel. Do not talk to me like my psycho therapist! You know why I had to do this and you have no right to judge me because I count this as a win. This is my matter, not yours.”

Cas, once again, sighed. Anger was always the worst way to confront Meg. Quieter, friendlier, he said:

“Meg, you know that I admire you. What you did required courage, courage that not many people have nowadays. You turned what happened to you, something so horrific, into this- a work to help others. Do not undermine how difficult this has been for you.”

Meg clearly wanted to answer, probably to keep negating her own gentleness, but the two coffees that were set down between them kept her quiet. She leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms.

“Thanks, Gabe”, Cas said, looking up- but to his surprise he was not met by the golden shimmering eyes of his brother, but by green ones. Not just some kind of green, but the exact shade that hunted him for the past weeks. For a second, he was speechless.

“Oh, I… hello, Dean. Sorry for the misunderstanding, I thought you were Gabriel. Thanks for bringing us our drinks.”, he smiled.

The boy shifted, he looked uncomfortable with the attention, or maybe it was just Meg’s still angry demeanour? Either way, he gave Cas a shy smile before he nearly fled towards the safety of the kitchen. Cas watched him going, caught in his thoughts.

Dean looked good. And if he was ready for working outside the kitchen, he probably felt so, too. Castiel was worried, worried about Gabriel pushing him too fast, or the boy pushing himself too fast. He should get used to the environment first, after all he only worked here for how long, three weeks? It couldn’t have been easy for him, after all. Come to think about it, seeing Cas probably wasn’t easy for him either, and that was only if he even remembered him-

“Hello, earth to Clarence?”, Meg asked, her attitude back to the sassy smirk now. “Saw something that you like? Or is it just your hero complex?”

“Nothing like that, Meg, and I’d appreciate it if we could stay on topic. What do you want to do concerning these ridiculous allegations?”, Cas tried to distract her. It wasn’t fair to her, but he really didn’t want to talk to her about Dean. Meg’s eyes narrowed.

“You know what I want to do? Jack squat. Let the assholes be assholes, let them show the world their own bigotry, let them dig their own graves. We will sit that one out, Clarence. Now, if you excuse me, I have got a reason to celebrate and you just keep depressing me. See you, angel.”

With that, she stood up, waved and made her way outside the bakery. Cas stopped her, held her by her arm.

“Be careful, Meg”, he said seriously.

She only responded with a little, genuine smile and left.

Castiel stayed in his seat, contemplating. If that was what she wanted to do, he would have to do so. The problem was that he did not want to do nothing. He had seen Meg in her very low and every fibre in his body wanted to protect her. Maybe she hadn’t been wrong with the hero complex…

“Hey, little bro, now that the charming demon girl has left, you wanna come help us in the kitchen?”, Gabe yelled from behind the selling counter. Cas sighed, but followed his brother to the room in the back.

When he pulled the curtain aside, entering the kitchen, his view instantly fell on Dean. The boy stood with his back to him, working on something on the counter. Gabe leaned next to him against it, looking at him and laughing about something.

“Hello again, Dean. I realised that you might not remember my name- “

He stopped when Dean turned around. It was a picture for the angels. There was icing sugar all over him, on his t-shirt with the logo of some rock band Cas did not know, on his jeans, even in his hair. That was probably what Gabe laughed about. His cheeks were red, making his freckles stand out even more. In his hands was a bowl with butter cream in some really abnormal shade of pink. But more important was, that Dean looked relaxed, a happy glint in his eyes, as he mouthed _Cas_. In this moment Dean looked like a normal teenager, like someone who did not have the scars that were visible on his bare arms. He looked happy, and for Castiel, that was just as much joy as noticing that Dean did indeed still know his name.

He smiled at him, even more so when the boy mirrored his expression.

Gabe’s cough brought them back to reality; Dean turned back around to keep working on the butter creme, Cas smiled sheepishly at his brother. He didn’t even try to hide his relief about the boy's wellbeing.

“Dean-o here just finished baking his first own creation. Wanna try? I swear, his apple pie is to die for, the boy has a real talent!”, Gabe praised, and without even waiting for his brother to respond, shoved him a plate with a really delicious looking piece of pie in his hands on his way back out to the sitting area. Cas wasted no second to dig and- oh Jesus, Gabe had been right!

“Oh my, Dean, that tastes fantastic! Is that cinnamon and nutmeg and… “, Cas exclaimed.

Dean beamed under the praise, nodding and mouthing _cardamom_ over his shoulder _._

“I wish I could bake like this. On the other hand, with Gabe here, I already gained enough weight”, Cas said smirking. He could see Dean’s shoulders moving, the boy enjoying a silent laugh. “This was just what I needed, thank you.”

Dean turned back around, assessing him with these bright green eyes. He seemed to consider something, then he pointed at Cas. He formed his hand in the shape of an _o_ and a _k._ It took Cas a moment to understand- Dean was asking whether he was okay.

A genuine smile appeared on his face and he signed the thank you gesture: “Yes, I am okay. Thank you for asking, Dean, I appreciate it. Meeting Meg is always a challenge, but… well it could have been worse.”

Den chewed on his bottom lip, before he started signing again: _Is she your girlfriend?_

Cas couldn’t resist the chuckle: “No, Meg isn’t quite my type. We worked together. I don’t know if you remember but the last time we met, I told you about the problems I had with my publisher? My book is based on Meg’s life, and some people don’t like what they read and call her and me liars.” He hesitated, unsure whether he should continue, but Dean looked at him expectantly, so he kept going. “We met today to discuss how to react to these allegations, but she doesn’t want to do anything about it. She deserves a lot better, but somehow, she accepts it when they talk about it like that. To be honest, I don’t understand it, but in the end, it is her call, not mine, as much as it pains me.”

Dean looked at him with empathy. He nodded, then he signed _What happened to her?_

“It’s a long story. If you want to… if you want to I could bring you a copy of the book? I mean, would you enjoy reading?”, Cas answered.  It wasn’t that Meg’s story was too complicated, mostly he wanted to avoid triggering Dean in case he recognised something of what happened to her as his own past. The offer to give him the book seemed like a safer way.

Dean nodded eagerly, and signed that he loved reading, that he just finished the Harry Potter series and was looking for something new now. It made Cas smile to see Dean so relaxed, with so much passion. They kept talking about books, until Dean suddenly asked: _How come you know sign language?_

“Before I became an author, I was working for the CPS. I did not like it, but there were some useful skills I picked up in my time there.”, Cas replied.

Dean paled. He nodded, but he also turned back around to the counter, his back towards Cas. He could see the boy’s shoulders tensing. Damn, maybe there had been a trigger somewhere. Cas did what worked the last to make Dean relax- he distracted him.

“Tell me, Dean, and I mean no offense, but why are you making icing in such a horrendous colour?”, he asked with a smirk. Dean stood still for a second, before his shoulders were moving because of laughter. He smiled at Cas and due to his full hands, mouthed _Princess birthday party._

 

* * *

 

 

They kept talking, or rather signing and talking, for the rest of Dean’s shift; the boy kept working and Cas helped from time to time.

Books, movies, music, pie- there was no room for silence in their conversation. Castiel enjoyed it, seeing the scarred boy so happy. Maybe Gabe and Sam had been right and both of them had needed some time before meeting again. 

When it was time for Dean to leave, he asked Cas if he would be at the bakery more often, now that his book was published. Castiel was rigid for a second, shocked by the frankness in Dean’s signing, before he managed to nod: “I hope so.”

And Dean smiled one last time before he turned around and left the bakery.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, these chapters keep becoming longer and longer!
> 
> As always, please tell me what you think and if you spot any mistakes, especially concerning the language. Thank you:)


	6. Saw you out of the corner of my eye

_Did you miss me? I know it has been some time, my good boy, but I am back now. Your master is here to look after you- aren’t you pleased? Come on, boy, get up and show me how pleased you are. Show me that you deserve my mercy for another day.”_

Dean woke with a start. He sat up. As so often, it took him a moment to realise that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t with his _master_ anymore, but at the Singer’s home, in his room, his bed.

His nightmare had been a bad one. Whenever _he_ had wanted Dean to prove something- most of the time his own worth- he had to overstep his own boundaries, had to go further and further and more and more away from himself. He had to give himself up in order to survive another day.

A tear rolled down his cheek, unnoticed until it landed on his hand. A tear that quickly lead to a sob. Dean clutched his knees tightly to his chest, hugging them, hiding his face in them. He slid back on his bed until he felt the board against his spine, quietly crying because of pain he should not feel anymore.

It had been a bad week. The more spontaneous and courageous Dean had become with Cas whenever he had come by the bakery for a visit, the more Crowley seemed to build up the pressure, seemed like he wanted to force him to finally talk. Crowley wanted him to “face the memories”, to stop hiding “like some scared little girl”. He forbad him to draw, to distract himself in moments like these.

“You are here for a full year now and you made no progress whatsoever. Get a grip, boy. Show the Singers that you are worth their attention. Prove it.”

The words echoed in Dean’s mind, as his breath became more and more flat and desperate. Trying to make himself smaller, Dean cowered even more. He just- he could not do it, could not think about that time-

Dean was bad and he knew it. He knew that he should be better. He knew that if he did not become better soon, he’d be punished, punished like back then-

And it wasn’t like he didn’t try but what if he was too weak? What if would never be able to-

A hand on his shoulder made him shrink even further. He hadn’t even heard the door being opened.

“Dean, son, what happened? Dean? Do you hear me?”, Bobby’s gruff voice pierced through the fog of his panic. “Dean, son, calm down, you are safe. I promise it. You are safe, I’m here, we protect you.”

A weight made his mattress shift, the hand pulling him to it, until huge arms embraced him, pressed him into another person’s warmth. Dean just kept crying.

 

When he came back to it, he still laid curled at Bobby’s chest. A hand ran soothing circles on his back, while Bobby told him again and again that he was safe, that he would protect him, that nothing could take him from his home.

“Not worth it.”, Dean murmured, his voice scruff from both, the crying and the months of silence.

He felt Bobby freeze. It wasn’t the first-time Dean had talked to him or Ellen, he knew he was physically able to do so. But unlike Crowley, Bobby seemed to understand that talking was not necessarily a good sign. Most of the time, it happened when Dean was overly emotional, too caught up in his feelings to remember what he was taught.

_A good pet does not talk._

It was a sign for how bad the nightmare had been.

“What did you say, son?”, Bobby asked softly, pushing Dean away an arm’s length so he could look at him, so Dean would not mumble into his shirt again. Dean did not look up, his shoulders still shaking and tears still falling, head as always bowed.

“Not worth it.”, he sobbed.

Booby froze again. This time, it was not the talking that shocked him, but what the boy had said. He contemplated for another moment, hoping he hadn’t heard right, then he pulled his son back into the hug. He sighed.

“Dean? I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen keenly. Can you do that for me?”

He took the nodding motion at his chest as a yes.

“Dean, your mother and I, we love you. Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that could ever change that! You are the best son we could imagine having, believe me, and the only thing we would ever change about you, is how you see yourself. Son, you are brave, you have survived things others can’t even think about. You challenge yourself every day, and we see the progress you make. You are gentle and kind and you don’t let what happened to you control your life. The only one who does not notice your strength are you yourself. Dean, can you do something for me?”

Somewhere during his speech, Dean had stopped shaking. Silent tears were still streaming down his cheeks, leaving his eyes swollen and red-rimmed. The boy in Bobby’s arms looked so young, so fragile. He was too pale, his freckles standing out in a harsh contrast. His sand-coloured hair was ruffled from sleep, bangs hanging into his eyes, eyes that have seen what no child should ever see, eyes full of desperation. The view almost broke Bobby’s heart.

“Dean, I want you to realise that we will always be there for you. No matter what happens, you will always have your mother and me to help you. Don’t hide in here and suffer, son. We are your parents, helping you- that’s what we do. That’s what we want. Don’t isolate yourself like that, Dean, just tell us when you need us and no matter the time or place or anything, we will be there for you. Okay? Okay, Dean?”

A sniffling sound came from the boy curled at his chest.

Dean felt… overwhelmed? Bobby and Ellen have often told him that they loved him and that they were there for him, but it took this moment, these words, for him to fully comprehend it: This was love.

It meant being there.

It meant helping each other.

It meant that he was not alone.

Understanding flood through him in a warm wave, casting out his fear, his panic, his reclusion.

Dean pulled back, his hand rubbing over his eyes, wiping away his last tears. He swallowed and looked up at Bobby, for one of the first times actually looking him in the eyes. Taking a breath, he lifted his fingertips to his chin, blew a kiss, then held his open hand up, thumb touching his forehead: _Thanks, dad._

It was the first time he called Bobby that. _Dad._

In some of his nightmares, the blurry ones from the very beginning, he still remembered his biological father, John. John had been a vicious man, with dark emotionless eyes, his breath reeking of alcohol. He had never wanted Dean to call him Dad, only Sir. And while the boy didn’t have many memories of him, Dean had been too young, the ones he did have were not good ones, none he would associate with the term father.  It didn’t even feel right to think of John as that.

With Bobby, it seemed fitting. It seemed like the term had waited for Dean’s whole life only to be used for this man.  It seemed perfect.

The man in question gave him a soft smile, his eyes twinkling in the light of the moon shining through the window. No, this really wasn’t John.

“Goodnight, son. I’m proud of you”, Bobby whispered. And he hadn’t even tucked the 17-year old completely back under the cover of his blanket before Dean was already back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, everything was back to normal. Everything, except for Dean.

The previous night, as painful as it had been, had also shown him what he did not manage to fully comprehend until then: Here, in Lawrence, with the Singers, he was at home. He was not just some boy Bobby and Ellen took pity on, he was their son, they were his parent’s. And while Dean had never experienced the feeling before, nothing could convince him that this wasn’t family, not even their own DNA.

Family doesn’t end with blood. Nor does it start there.

When he came downstairs for breakfast, he was relaxed, even confident. Dean knew that this didn’t mean too much, it was only for the moment, he still could not talk most of the time, he still considered himself broken- but baby steps, right? Every progress, no matter how tiny, was progress, and every progress was to be proud of.

Ellen and Bobby seemed to feel the change in him, because surprisingly they did not give Dean the “You don’t have to go to the bakery if you don’t want to”-talk. Apparently, they trusted him enough to make that decision by himself, and Dean was highly grateful for it.

Before he left, he had given each of them a hug. They told him to have a nice day. He thanked them with one of his rare smiles.

It kind of already felt like a nice day.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, at the bakery, Gabe had just been restocking the selling counter and to his delight Dean could see various new pies that were added to the vitrine. The older man greeted him with his usual cheerful smile: “Hey, Dean-o, you alright? You seem different, kinda.”

Dean nodded, his eyes lighting with joy. Gabe grinned, apparently enjoying the boy’s good mood, too.

“Oh, by the way, my hubby’s here today, he helped me carry some supplies. I dunno if I ever told ya, but he’s a Sasquatch and therefore a perfect working slave. Wanna meet him?”, he winked. And without even waiting for Dean’s response he went to the kitchen. Dean followed hesitantly.

“I heard that, you know?”, a new voice asked teasingly from somewhere behind the curtain.

“Oh, how ever can I make it up to you, my love?”, Gabe’s voice answered.

Dean came into the kitchen just in time to see them pull apart: Gabe was wrapped around a giant of a man, all dressed up in suit and tie, who glanced down at him. Shaggy brown hair fell in his face, yet Dean could see the fondness with which he looked at the smaller man. Dean smiled to himself, this dude might have been a Sasquatch, but he was also clearly totally whipped.

“Oh, careful, an innocent minor is in the room”, Gabe said as he practically peeled himself from the other man. “Dean, this is Sam Campbell, my hot-shot husband. He might be tall, but he’s a puppy, don’t worry. Love, this is Dean, second best baker in the state, after me of course.”

Sam shot the smirking Gabe a dirty look. He took a step forward and held out his hand for the boy.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from shrinking back at the frank gesture by the intimidating giant with the serious attire, but when he saw the man’s gentle hazel eyes, the slight frown with which Sam responded to his reaction, he quickly tried to get the control over his actions back. His head was bowed when he took a careful step forwards and gripped his hand to shake it.

He could feel Sam’s assessing gaze on him and tried to make himself smaller, but Gabe’s reassuring smile stopped him from doing so. No, he could do this. He was worth it. It was going to be okay. Baby steps.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dean. Gabe and Cas won’t shut up about you.”, Sam said with a smile. At Dean’s embarrassed expression he quickly added: “Only good things of course! Gabe loves your baking, it took him so long to finally find a competent baker that he has the theory that you are an actual angel.”

Dean relaxed. He let out a silent chuckle, delighted by the idea that his presence was valued this highly, before he turned to Gabe and mouthed: _Cas?_

Damn, he really hoped he didn’t look too much like a love-sick teenager.

“Sorry, kiddo, not coming in today. He wants me to tell you that he regrets it deeply, but something is going on with his book that seems to have insulted some people and they threaten to sue him so he is quite stressed out at the moment.”, Gabe answered unimpressed.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock, but Sam quickly interjected: “Don’t worry, they have no foundation for their claims. Cas will be fine, he always is.”

Dean relaxed marginally, but still eyed Sam warily. He signed _Are you a lawyer?_ But their confused looks told him that neither Gabe nor Sam were as good at ASL as Cas. He reached for his backpack until he found the drawing block he always had with him and a pen and scribbled his question on an empty piece of paper.

Understanding dawned in his face as Sam nodded: “Yes, I am, although Cas’ case is not quite my area. I work as a human rights activist, I help people like Meg.”

 _That sounds impressive,_ Dean wrote down. He was too caught in his interest to worry about being too open or even rude, forgetting how _he_ had once raised him.

“Thank you. I… I have once lost someone because the government gave crap about some basic human rights, so I swore to myself to prevent something like this from happening again. I went to law school, which was one of the best decisions of my life. I had a nice roommate, and he an even nicer brother…”

And with that, Sam leaned down and gave Gabe a peck on his cheek. He smiled boyishly: “I have to go, before my partner accuses me of leaving her all the work, again. Bela can be a real bitch! Bye, babe; bye, Dean. It was a pleasure to meet you!”

He gave Gabe another kiss and went to shake Dean’s hand again. The boy quickly discarded his block and the pencil he still held towards the kitchen counter to have his hands free and sign: _It was a pleasure to meet you, too._ The smile in Sam’s eyes when he left the kitchen told him that he had understood.

Dean’s gaze followed him on his way out. He was caught in his thoughts.

Bobby and Ellen had told him that they would support him in every decision he was going to make for the future, but they were visibly pleased when the day Dean got his GED results he had admitted that he had always dreamt of going to college. He had already given up this wish, as most of his others, but having the possibility to pursue it now was just stunning for him. It was a relief to know that his parents had his back like that, but it was an even bigger relief that they did not mind him waiting another year until he started sending applications. He just wasn’t ready yet, neither did he even know what to study.

What Sam did, helping people- it was a good thing. Something useful. Something he wanted to achieve, too. Not as a lawyer, but the only reason Dean was here right now were all the people who had helped him: In the hospital, from the police, from the CPS, Gabe, mostly of course the Singers, …

Dean was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Gabe shuffling behind him, glancing a look at the boy’s drawing block. When he laid it down, in his hurry, he left it open at a random page, showing the drawing he did after his last panic attack a few weeks back, after he had met Cas for the first time. _Angel in a trench coat,_ he had called it.

“You know”, Gabe brought him out of his reverie, “that angel looks a lot like my little brother. He even has the same ugly trench coat.”

Dean turned around quickly, tearing the small book out of his grinning employer’s hand and shoving it back into the backpack he discarded at his usual place next to the backdoor. He shot Gabe an angry look, then he shrugged: _Well he kind of was my angel that day._

And with that he grabbed a plate of freshly baked pies and went to restock the vitrines, leaving behind a smirking Gabriel.

 

* * *

 

 

This evening, when Dean had dinner with Bobby and Ellen, he told them about meeting Sam.

At the same time, a few streets downtown, Sam was lying next to his husband in their bed in Cas’ house and told him once again under tears that he wished he knew what had happened to his brother. De was declared dead a few years ago, an attempt to give his mother some rest, but they had never found a body.

“I know that De is gone. They told us so. I just… the Dean working at your bakery, he is younger and he doesn’t look like my brother at all, but he reminds me so damn much of him! For a second back there, I even wondered what it would have been like. You know, what it would have been like to have him as my brother, to have grown up with a little brother, for him to be the clumsy toddler. It isn’t fair to De, I know, but Gabe, I would give everything to have him back. To keep my father from taking him, my mother from falling apart because she was told that there was no chance for her to ever see her baby again. He would be an adult soon; can you imagine that? I would have loved to see that…”

Gabe just kept holding his crying husband.

“What do you say, we can go and visit De this weekend. I can ask Cas to work at the bakery so I'm free to come with you. Maybe Mary wants to come with us, too? And we could introduce her to Dean, you know, at the bakery. I’m sure if you combine these two you could get the ultimate apple pie.”, he suggested softly.

Sam chuckled under his sobs. Gabe leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“And you know, you should not feel guilty for imagining your childhood in a better light. Your youth has been shitty, but I am sure that if De was here, he’d just want you to be happy. If picturing Dean as your De helps you, do it. Just don’t forget that he is not actually him.”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, comments are highly appreciated:)
> 
> A little side note: I have my exams over the next month, so until february I will probably not be able to update very often. Sorry for that, but once I'm done with learning things like the history of European constitutions (no joke), I'll be back as often as possible!


	7. If you were a poet and I was a faultless muse

From all the things Castiel hated about his job, the signings were definitely the worst.

All the strangers, the small talk, the forced smiles- it just wasn’t his world.

Not to be misunderstood, Castiel loved writing, even more since he could help people with it. It was a satisfaction his old job had denied him, although it had been the original reason for him to start at the Child Protection Services.

Today’s signing was just the coronation of a shitty week. There had been heated interviews with conservative talk show hosts, heated arguments with members of the church, heated discussion with Meg. Castiel was pretty much at the end of his energy and in bitter need of some positivity. He hadn’t even had the time to visit Dean at the bakery. Gabe had told him how great the boy was doing, about his new recipes or how he met Sam, and Cas was truly happy for him, although he had to admit that he was also desolate not to have witnessed this new side of him.

Now, as he sat in the Lawrence library, perched in a small chair in a dark corner, Dean was all he could think about, all he wanted to think about. The signing had started a few hours ago, and the line was still too long for Cas to see an ending of his misery. The people waiting were nice, they helped him, more importantly helped people like Meg and there was no world in which Castiel would not feel the deepest gratitude for them- but right now, he just wanted to sleep. To complete his bad temper, he had just emptied the last of his coffee.  Maybe he could ask Balthazar to get him a new one? Once his publisher stopped flirting with the librarian?

Castiel scowled and threw the cup into the trash can. A heavy-set old man, all dressed up in a suit, his head bolding, face smug, was next in line. But instead of giving Cas an exemplar of his book or something else to sign, he shoved the bible into his face, stopping just an inch before his nose.

“How dare you”, he yelled. “You, a faggot living in sin, affront him, the lord? Leviticus 18:22- _Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable!_ Are you actively trying to get to hell, you heathen? Insulting the lord’s name like you are worth more than us good believing people? _”_

Castiel, shocked by the sudden offending gesture, took a second to calm himself. People like this man were nothing new to him, quite the opposite actually. Once people had found out about his sexuality it had become just another tool for them to use against him. He was used to their homophobic slurs- which did not make it any more acceptable. He took a deep breath.

“James 4:12- _There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you- who are you to judge your neighbour?”,_ Castiel spat out, glaring daggers at the man. He shoved the bible out of his face, earning a wide-eyed stare by the assaulter.

“Galatians 5:14- _For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: Love your neighbour as yourself!”,_ Castiel exclaimed even more loudly now, slowly standing up.

“Romans 13:10- _Love does no harm to a neighbour. Therefore, love is the fulfilment of the law”,_ he was yelling now. Castiel banged his hand on the table.

“Do you really want to go there? I had this discussion so many times with so many assbutts like you! I know the bible and I know god, and even more importantly, I know love. I pity you for your dense loyalty in an organisation that works against everything god, the father, the shepherd, stands for. I pity you for your inability to question even the simplest statements. I pity you for the miserable life you must have if you think yelling at a stranger in a library full of kids gives you satisfaction! I am here to help the victims of your beloved organisation, and if you don’t have anything constructive to add in a fight against child abuse, then leave now. God shall forgive you for your simple-mindedness.”

The man opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Had Castiel not been so agitated, he probably would have laughed- he looked like a fish.

“Leave”, Castiel repeated. Falling down on his chair, he leaned back, closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He opened his eyes just in time to see the offender being escorted outside.

Damn, he really needed a break.

Cas’ manager could apparently read minds, because a hand on his shoulder made him turn.

“Castiel, I think that is enough for the day. You already had a long week, go and take some time off. I will give the rest of your admirers some pre-written autographs.”, Balthazar whispered in his ear.

Castiel turned around and already tried to argue, when Balt interrupted him: “No Cassie, don’t argue. Go and get some sleep. Or someone for sleep, I don’t care, just stop working yourself to death, or I’ll cancel your whole calendar for the next week.”

“But next week is the meeting with the senator, you wouldn’t dare- “

“Is that a challenge? I don’t give a flying fuck about the senator, I can live without him. You, on the other hand, I need alive and healthy, so get the fuck out of here.”

Sighing, Castiel accepted his fate. “Thanks, Balthazar.”

“Don’t mention it. And now go, damn it!”

 

* * *

 

 Cas did not go home. He had wanted to, but as much as he loved Gabriel and Sam, he really needed some time alone.

The library had always been a haven for him. When he had been new in Lawrence, he had found comfort and secureness in literature. Words have always been his kind of therapy, and right now, as his mind could not come to rest, he sought them out once more.

With relief, Cas noticed that his favourite corner of the library on the second floor was unchanged. It was a window seat, stuffed with colourful cushions and pillows. Out of the glass one could see the busy main street, people rushing in a hurry, and the workers of the city installing the Christmas lights.

But what Castiel valued most was the seclusion of the spot. As it was in the history department and unlike the rest of the library not renovated, not many people came here and even less wanted to stay. It was the perfect place to get some peace.

Castiel sank down on the sill, parallel to the window. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. It had really not been a good week. All he wanted was some distraction and maybe another cup (or two) of coffee.

A hand on his shoulder made Castiel flinch, eyes wide open in shock. He nearly expected his offender to be back, to want revenge for his insulting answer and took a defensive demeanour. Instead, he looked into forest green eyes, that shyly tracked his expression. Cas blinked.

Dean was here! He wore his usual jeans and a pullover that looked like Ellen made him wear it, with a cheesy green-red-white Christmas pattern. Dean was just a boy after all. In his hands, Dean held two cups, shoving one towards Cas. He took it hesitantly, eying Dean wearily- what was he doing here?

Dean bit his lip, then he motioned to the window seat in a _Mind if I sit?_ motion. Castiel smiled and nodded.

“Hello Dean. Don’t misunderstand me, it is truly nice to see you, but what are you doing here? Is everything okay at the bakery?”

Dean nodded, contemplated, then he shoved the second cup into Cas’ hands, too, to have his hands free to sign: _Hey, Cas. Yeah, Gabe finally agreed to employ another person and he closed today to instruct Alfie, so I have some free time._

He swallowed, looked down at his hands, then he signed again: _Are you okay?_

“Oh. I take it you have seen that… altercation?”, Cas sighed. Dean glanced up, he nodded, empathy marking his innocent features.

“Thank you for asking Dean, but I am okay. It had just been an awful week and I crave my bed…”

Dean raised the corner of his mouth in a little grin. _You do look tired. I saw that your coffee was empty so I thought…_ he hesitated, nodding towards one of the cups in Cas’ hands.

Castiel could not supress the smile: “You don’t know how much I appreciate that, Dean! I wanted to ask my manager, but Balthazar was too busy flirting with the librarian.”

Dean’s shoulders moved in a silent chuckle: _The librarian, that’s Anna. She can’t stop talking about him either. It’s kind of funny how they dance around each other, isn’t it?_

That made Cas laugh, too.

“I take it you come here often?”, he asked, taking a sip out of one of the cups. It was like liquid heaven and he could barely supress a groan.

Dean smirked, then his expression shifted back to shy. _I kind of like it here. It was a safe place for me when I came to Lawrence, and also the first place where I went to alone, without Ellen or Bobby. It’s..._

He shrugged and looked down, as if he was embarrassed, as if he thought he would have said too much.

“I understand that too well, when I moved to Lawrence, I also came here very often to seek the comfort. It really is a special place, isn’t it?”

Dean smiled, relieved, then he asked: _Do you know what’s funny? I didn’t even know you were going to be here today. It’s just that you never brought your book so I wanted to look whether they had it here. I didn’t find any books with your name, instead a poster where it said that Carver Edlund would sign today. I became curious as to which author would attract that many people so I went to have a look. Imagine my surprise when it was you who sat there! I didn’t know you write under another name?_

Cas chuckled. He was happy to see Dean signing so much, clearly caught in passion, and the fact that it was passion over him and his books just made it even better. Gabe had been right; the boy did recuperate. Whatever had happened to him- the Singers managed to help him and Cas was glad to see so in Dean’s behaviour.

“I must apologize, I did lay an exemplar to the side for you, but I haven’t had the chance to give it to you yet. Trust me, I did not forget you, Dean”, he said with a soft voice.

“Concerning the name... yes I do have a pen name. When I published my first book, I was still working for the CPS. I don’t know if you know that, but my first book drew a highly negative picture of them. At that time, I have still been under the illusion that I could help with my job. I wanted to keep it so I wrote anonymously. But when I say the answers and the responses on my book, when I saw how many people helped and what I could achieve like this, I quit anyway. However, I kept the name, I had hoped to reach more people with my second book seeing as “Carver Edlund” was already an established writer.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully, then he took the second cup back from Cas and took a sip. For a while, neither said anything, both enjoying the silence. They looked outside, watching the people hurry by while both were captured by their own thoughts. It wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite actually. They savoured the silence, a welcome variety from their everyday lives.

After a few minutes, Dean turned back to Cas. He discarded his now empty cup and signed: _I... can I ask you something?_

Cas smiled, trying to soothe the boy who looked way too nervous for such an innocent question.

“Of course, Dean, you don’t need my allowance to ask me something.”

Dean gulped and bit on his bottom lip. He did that often, Castiel noted. Then, the boy nodded: _You knew a lot of bible quotes back there. Are you religious?_

Cas sighed, this was indeed a complicated question.

“I guess this depends on how you interpret religious. I don’t go to church, I don’t believe in the bible and I don’t pray regulary, yet I identify myself as someone who believes. Truth be told, I grew up in a very religious house which is how I know the Bible verses, but I feel like I have also seen every negative aspect there is at belief. Once I came out as gay, it was the last draw for my very conservative family and Gabe and I moved out. It’s why we are so close today... What about you, Dean? Are you religious?”

Dean huffed and shook his head. He seemed to think thoroughly about his answer, as it took him a minute until he knew what to say. _When I was younger..._

Dean swallowed, leaned his head against the wall and, without looking at Cas, signed: _When I was younger I sometimes thought that I must have done something. You know, something to insult god or the church, something blasphemous, something against the ten commandments. I wondered which crime I had permitted to deserve punishment. It took me years until I realised that it wasn’t me. Not me. I was a child, and my feelings of right and wrong might not have been that evolved, but I was a child. One day I realised that a universe without god would be good. Because, if there is a god, where is he. Where was he. A universe without a god means that there is no god to be a douchebag who just abandons those who rely on him._

Castiel was shocked. Not only because of the sheer number of signs Dean had just made, but more so because of what the boy had said. How could a 17-year old be so disappointed with the world? How could he be so wise in his young age? And most importantly, how could he help him?

Cas gave Dean an assessing look. The boy still had his eyes closed, clearly avoiding him.

Carefully, Cas leaned forward and slowly, softly, placed his hand on his. Dean flinched, eyes wide now, but when he saw the man’s reassuring smile, he relaxed and regarded him, seemingly waiting.

“I am glad that you had that realisation. You are very wise, especially for your age, and while I wished that you wouldn’t have had to grow up so quickly, I admire you. I feel like I should start calling you Yoda…”

Dean looked quizzically, _Yoda?_ He mouthed.

And there it was again. That pure passion in Dean’s eyes. He might have grown up under seemingly horrible circumstances, but this boy, right here- Cas was convinced that this was the real Dean. He was determined to see that side more often.

“You know, Yoda, as in Star Wars.”, he answered.

When Dean’s expression did not change, Castiel raised his eyebrows.

“Please tell me that you have watched Star Wars!”

The boy instantly made himself smaller, bowing his head. This was the opposite of what Cas wanted.

“Do you want to watch it now?”, he asked with a conspiratorial smile. “There are space ships, druids, knights with lightsabres, some pretty cool creatures from all over the galaxy…”

Dean smiled, too, and it was like someone had switched on the lights in the room- the passion shining in his eyes was the one of a person without sorrows, a free person, and Castiel had never seen anything more beautiful.

Dean’s expression suddenly clouded and he signed: _I’d have to ask Ellen first._

“Do you want to call- wait, never mind. Will you text her?”, Cas asked. For a moment, he was afraid his stupidity might have triggered Dean, but the boy just grinned because of it. He nodded and started typing on his phone.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Castiel pulled his old Lincoln, the pimpmobile, as Gabriel called it, into his driveway. The car was rusty and by far no comparison to Dean’s black muscle car. _My baby,_ he had signed once he had seen Cas’ admiring stare. _A '67 Chevy impala, I helped Bobby rebuild her so he gave her to me._ The proudness in his signing had been obvious and once again Castiel was caught in the boy’s ability to build passion for things that were invisible for others.

Now, as Dean parked in front of the small house, Castiel could not stop himself feeling relieved that Sam and Gabe’s cars were absent. It was logical, they were probably both at work, yet on the way home he had been worried that too many people would intimidate Dean. He wanted the boy to feel comfortable, overwhelming him was not part of his plan.

Dean left his car and crossed the path to Cas’ house. His eyes were wide, his features shy as he gave the building an assessing view.

Castiel knew, it wasn’t much. The old Victorian house might not have been big, but it had two stories that had more than enough space for him. The blue colour already peeled of and the yard was dominated by the wild nature, which made it a sharp contrast to the ordered and always clean neighbourhood, but that was just how Castiel loved it. After all, for him, it was home.

Dean apparently thought so, too, because with a small smile he nodded towards the door. Cas let out a sight he didn’t know he held, and opened it.

“Do you want a quick tour?”, he asked, after they had removed their shoes and shrugged off their jackets.

Dean nodded, a spark glinting in his eye.

“The kitchen is to the left, bathroom to the left”, Cas opened each door so Dean could glance inside. He wanted him to get to know the environment, to feel welcome, hoping the boy would see his house as a safe space and relax here.

“Down that hall is my bedroom and the stairs, on the second floor is the guest bedroom, where Sam and Gabe stay at the moment, and my study. It’s not a lot, but it’s…”, he shrugged.

 _Home,_ Dean signed. Cas could only nod, once again too surprised by the boy’s wisdom.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long until they both laid sprawled out on Cas’ couch, captured by the stories from the far away galaxy. Between the movies, they talked, discussed what happened, exchanged theories. They became more and more used to the presence of the other, more and more relaxed and laid-back. Castiel had not felt that much comfort in a long time.

When the sixth movie (they had started with the fourth, obviously) ended, Cas yawned and stretched out. He hadn’t even noticed how the sky and the room  got dark.

“Hey, Dean, what do you say- “, he started, but once he had turned to the boy in question, he stopped.

Dean was asleep.

A person who mistrusted even puppy-eyed Sam, whom it took a month to stop bowing his head whenever he was talked to at the bakery, who did not speak because of something that had happened to him, trusted him enough to fall asleep, here, in his house, a strange environment.

Castiel smiled, then he huffed. He felt delighted, if not honoured. Dean’s head laid back on the armrest, his feet nearly touching Castiel where he sat at the other end of the couch. His lips where slightly parted, chest heaving in regular periods, hair ruffled. With a smile, Cas watched him for a second, before he stood up to get the phone and call Ellen. He didn’t have to wait long, apparently, she had just waited for a call.

“Castiel? What’s going on? Is Dean okay? Do you need me to- “

“Ellen, stop. He’s fine, calm down”, Cas interrupted, his voice steady.

“I haven’t heard anything from him for half the day, it is 10pm now, the boy needs structure, you have seen with your own eyes what can happen otherwise. Do not tell me to calm down when it comes to my son, Novak!”, she yelled. Then Cas heard a sigh, and a way quieter voice asked: “But he’s alright?”

“Yes, Ellen, he is. We watched Star Wars, to get him educated, and he… he fell asleep.”, Castiel answered hesitantly. He knew that Ellen would see the situation just as he did, they have had the same education after all. Her silence was just another proof.

“Do you want to come get him? Or I could drive him? Or, you know, he could also stay here, we wouldn’t mind.”, Cas suggested. He knew it was risky to poke the mother bear, especially if it was someone as fierce as Ellen. But he also knew that once someone with PTSD had found a safe space, it wasn’t wise to take it away again.

More silence followed.

“Okay. I trust you here Castiel, and it’s only because I know that you are able to handle… complications. But be aware, if you hurt one hair on my baby’s head, you will get it back.”, Ellen’s icy voice answered, finally.

“Of course, Ellen. You know that I wouldn’t ever hurt Dean.”

“Maybe not intentionally”, she shot back.

“Ellen…”, Castiel pleaded. Now was not the time to argue about what’s buried in the past.

“Alright. Call me as soon as he is awake. My phone is on should he have nightmares or need us. I want him back home not after noon.”, she instructed strictly.

“Of course, Ellen.”

“Okay. Go and look after my son now.”

The line went dead.

Castiel took a second to collect himself. He understood Ellen’s worries, hell, he even appreciated it. It was reassuring to know that Dean was in good care, not that he had ever had a doubt. Yet…

The couch must be uncomfortable, he suddenly thought.

With a sigh, Castiel went to his wardrobe to grab the extra bedding he kept there. 

He did feel silly tucking in the 17-year old sleeping on his couch, but for once, Dean looked so peaceful. For once, he did not seem shy or self-consious or unhappy. For once, he looked like a normal boy. 

This night, when Cas fell asleep, it was with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) Comments and tips/corrections are highly appreciated! I wrote a lot of this chapter while I was on a train so there might be more mistakes than usual...


	8. Another scar may bless you

The next day, Dean woke up to shouting. Loud voices were telling each other off, muffled through the wall.

It was a sharp contrast to what Dean was used to wake up to- at the Singer’s and before. He instantly wanted to hide, to make himself smaller. Within seconds, his mind was wide awake. If there was something Dean knew, it was that shouting meant anger, and nothing hurt more than anger.

Dean did not want to get hurt again, never again.

It wasn’t until he recognised that dark, gravelly voice he came to admire, even cherish, that a feeling of safety spread through his veins. If Castiel was here, he wouldn’t need to worry. He wouldn’t be hurt. Cas would protect him.

It was weird that he trusted that man so much, Dean thought, still in the process of waking his body, opening his eyes, blinking because of the sudden brightness. After all, it took him months to start signing to communicate with Bobby and Ellen, and he knew Cas for how long, four weeks? And yet he already trusted him.

Dean yawned, glancing around, just to realise that he was in a strange environment. Yet, this time, he did not let panic overwhelm him. Dean looked around, warily, head as always ducked. Apparently, he laid sprawled out on a soft couch, a thick flannel blanket covering him. Soon, he recognised the soft blue and beige furniture, the cupboards on the wall filled with all kinds of books, and the huge windows he had already admired yesterday. They granted a view on a beautiful, wild garden, untouched by the order that is fashion nowadays, a piece of nature. Dean would love to see this garden in summer, with blooming, colourful flowers. It would be a wonderful place to stay at, to read or draw or just enjoy the sun…

Dean remembered Cas’ house, remembered the homey feeling it had induced him in, still made him feel at this very moment. Yet knowing that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep here left him baffled. 

He sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. A soft cough made him look up to where Sam stood in the doorway arch, leaning against the wall. A small smile graced his lips.

“Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?”, he asked softly.

The boy in question gulped and blinked before he gave a careful nod. Dean knew that there was nothing he had to worry from Sam, either way he could not stop himself from shrinking back slightly.

Sam ignored Dean’s changing attire, instead he kept questioning: “Would you like to help me prepare some breakfast? Or would you like some coffee? Cas and Gabe will still need a moment, brotherly love, I guess.” He shrugged.

Dean nodded slightly, then he stopped. Nature was calling, but with Sam’s limited knowledge of ASL, he did not know how to ask for the bathroom. He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip.

Thankfully, Sam seemed to notice his dilemma, because he huffed, went to the little table that stood next to the couch and grabbed a piece of paper, with various phone number’s already written on it and a pen. Shoving it at Dean he stated: “No need for worries, just write down what you want.”

Dean appreciated the gesture, even more the understanding. He gave Sam a small smile, then he wrote in his messy writing _Bathroom?_

“Oh, sorry, I could have guessed that. Sometimes my head’s a little stuck in the clouds.”, Sam winked and motioned for Dean to follow him. Dean slowly got up, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. It was warm and soft and no matter how child-like it made him feel he didn’t want to give it away just yet. He followed the giant man through the hallway, from which he showed him the door to the bathroom. The muffled voices Dean woke up to became louder the further they went down the corridor. Cas, and he recognised Gabe now, too, seemed to become more and more enraged. He gave Sam a worried look.

“Don’t worry because of the shouting.”, Sam glanced at the closed door. “They just need a few minutes. It’s what they do.”

He let out a sigh, apparently contemplating for a second. Lifting the corner of his lips, he motioned towards another door: “I’m in the kitchen. Just come and find me when you’ve finished.” And with that he turned and left.

Dean stayed for a second, not quite sure how to deal with the arguing brothers. He wanted to help Cas, wanted to be close to him, but on the other hand, it was really none of his business.

 

* * *

 

 

When Dean stepped out of the bathroom, he wanted to follow Sam’s instruction, he really did. He was already on his way to the kitchen, when the yelling stopped him. Well, not the yelling per se. It was more the mention of his name that made him freeze dead in his tracks.

“Dean is 17-years old for fuck’s sake, it’s not like he could consent- “

Gabe’s voice was interrupted by Cas’, sounding even angrier.

“There is nothing to consent to! It’s not like I have any ulterior motives here, I’d just like to call Dean a friend. He is a joy to hang out with and there is nothing wrong with- “

“No, damn it, there is something wrong with it! You are an adult who is obsessed with helping teenagers, and you have never hurt anyone but yourself with it, I don’t like it but I’ve come to accept it. But this here? You are crossing all kinds of boarders here. Dean is not in a stable position, you should not make him that dependable- “

“Make him? Make him dependable? He might still be in the process of recovery, but it’s not like he isn’t able to make decisions by himself. Nobody _makes_ Dean do anything, he is stronger than you think- “

“Bloody hell, I know that Dean isn’t some weak little daisy, I have seen the development he did over the last month. I have seen him become more and more courageous and as much as I admire it, it’s still a long way that he has to go. The boy nearly had a panic attack from meeting Sam and you know how much of a puppy that man is!”

“What do you want to say, Gabriel?”

“What I want to say is- what I want to say is that Dean is not Claire! You are not some kind of saviour he needs and you should stop acting like it. Not everybody in this world needs you!”

“That’s not what this is about and you know it. Don’t bring Claire into this and don’t, I repeat, do not, project your problems on my life!”

“Shut up, Castiel, you know what I mean. You were a wreck after what happened with Claire, but you are right, this is no comparison to Dean. Because now, you do not only endanger yourself, you also risk harming him! This might be the most stupid, ignorant- “

Dean has heard enough. Every cell in his body put up a combat, struggling with the question whether he should flee or whether he could fight.

A few weeks ago, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Dean would have run away like he always did when there was a confrontation. But this was Cas! This was Cas, fighting Dean’s battle. He could not just… it wouldn’t be fair for him to just leave.

After all, there was so much Cas had done for him, Cas was still doing for him. He was a good human if there has ever been one- and yet, Dean did not act because he thought he had to, because he thought he owed it to Cas.

For once in his life, he just did something because he wanted to do it- and damn, it felt good!

Determined, he knocked against the door, then, without waiting for a response, he entered. The room was apparently Cas’ bedroom, and while it did feel like a violation of his private space, Dean didn’t hesitate to take another step forwards.

It was furnished like the rest of the house, in soft blues and light browns. An unmade bed stood in the middle, the adjoining nightstands were loitered with books and papers. A wardrobe and even more book shelves covered the walls. It was the perfect combination of ordered and chaotic, somehow even the perfect representation of Cas.

Dean noticed all of this within the blink of an eye, but as much as it amazed him, it was not of import at the moment.

Of import were the two brothers standing in the middle of the room, both still caught in their angry demeanour, but glancing surprised looks at the normally so shy boy, wrapped in the thick blanket, glaring at them. Because Dean was pissed. In fact, he was so pissed, that he forgot everything that was hammered into his behaviour all those years ago, he forgot every act he was supposed to play and just did what his mind heart wanted him to do.

And right now, his heart wanted him to scream.

“I don’t know what your problem is, nor what’s the deal with this Claire, but what I do know is that I can stand for myself. I neither need you” and he pointed at Cas “to defend me, nor do I need you” this one was directed at Gabe “to play my mother!”

Dean gulped, starting to realise what he was just doing, that he was disobeying, and while he did start to make himself smaller, after a sigh he still kept going: “I really appreciate what you guys are doing for me, I feel better than… I feel comfortable with you. At home. I really don’t want to lose that, but I am fully capable of doing my own decisions here. Okay?”

The end only came out as a whisper.

“Holy shit.”, was the only answer Gabe was able to supply.

“Dean, what…?”, Cas started, too baffled to complete his sentence.

Dean blinked.

Since he had woken up, he had felt many feelings. Dean had been afraid from the loudness, shy because of Sam, embarrassed because he hadn’t known how to communicate, worried because of the argument, angry when they started to patronise him, coy because of his sudden outburst of emotions.

But now, as he stood here, hunched together in his blanket, feeling the stares of Cas and Gabe and even Sam, he couldn’t help from feeling confused. They were all looking at him with their eyes wide open, like some kind of a miracle has happened. Were they really that surprised that Dean could stand up for himself? They couldn’t have underrated him that much, could they? Damn it, he should have just shut up, shouldn’t have been so disobedient, shouldn’t have provoked-

A soft chuckle disrupted the silence. Dean turned to Sam, who was once again standing in the doorway, summoned by the shouting voices. His bewildered gaze must have told him off, because Sam huffed: “Don’t look so frozen Dean. We just heard you talk for the first time, give us a minute to process that.”

Once again, Dean could only blink. He opened his mouth, just to close it again. His eyebrows shot up, followed by the corners of his lips. Holy shit he has just talked and he didn’t even have a panic attack.

Joy spread in him, proudness of himself. It was rare that Dean felt so ecstatic, even rarer because of something concerning himself. But now he could not stop the grin from gracing his features.

The tension abruptly left the room. The brothers lost their stressed attitude, smirking, in Gabriel’s case even laughing loudly. He went by Dean, not without slapping his back, as if he too was proud.

“Damn, you never cease to amaze me, Dean.”, he said, going to Sam and wrapping his arm around his husband’s hip.

All Dean could do as an answer was giving Gabe a cheeky smile.  He was overwhelmed, too overwhelmed by what he had just achieved.

Dean could count the times he had been talking during the last year on both his hands. It wasn’t like he wanted to be mute, like he was choosing the silence. Years of so called education had brutally beat it into him, made him afraid of his own disobedience, his own insubordination. _He_ had been sure to raise a good boy.

Dean had never learnt how to deal with his feelings other than supressing them. It was what _he_ had wanted from him. Therefore, it took very strong emotions to dominate his everlasting worries, his everlasting attire, his everlasting acting. Most of the time, it was fear that made him break, fear because of a panic attack or a nightmare, even an unexpected touch had been enough in the beginning. Dean was afraid of being back, of being found, of being hurt again. It hadn’t been long, until Dean had started to associate talking to the fear itself. Until now at least.

Because, while his talking might have been fuelled by negative emotions, by his anger, he did not feel bad now. Quite the opposite actually- he, Dean Singer, was proud of himself. And by the looks of it, so were Cas, Gabe and Sam. Nobody looked angry or like Dean had crossed a line, nobody looked like they wanted to punish him.

“What a morning”, Sam sighed with a smile leaning down to press a kiss on his husband’s forehead. Straightening, he asked: “Anybody want some coffee? Because I definitely need some!”

And he dragged Gabe out of the room towards the kitchen. Dean couldn’t stop but wonder whether this was on purpose because now, he and Cas were left alone in the centre of the big room.

“Good morning, Dean”, Cas finally stated with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling with joy. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean nodded and signed: _Thank you, I did. Sorry for falling asleep and… and for yelling at you. I didn’t mean it like that, I-_

“It’s not your part to apologise, Dean, but mine.  We shouldn’t have talked for you like that. Gabe is just worried and history has proven him right. To tell you the truth, I actually appreciate him keeping me on the ground. I appreciate you keeping me on the ground, too. Thank you, Dean.”, Cas interrupted and signed the thank-you kiss.

Dean smiled, relieved. Submission and proudness, his old and his real self, had fought in him, each telling him why his behaviour had been right, even admirable and courageous, or wrong and strictly unforgivable. But now, as Cas reassured him that he wasn’t mad, they finally shut up.

He hesitated, then Dean signed: _Can I ask you something?_

“Of course, Dean, you don’t have to ask, just- do so.”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating whether this was really a good idea. He could still back out. And yet, his curiosity won over his sorrows. Cas would tell him if he didn’t want to answer.

_Who is Claire?_

Cas’ expression changed, a pained look quickly replaced by an emotionless mask, that made Dean instantly hunch back, sink together and further into his blanket. It didn’t go unnoticed, as Cas quickly stated: “No, Dean, don’t… it’s totally alright to ask. I just wished you wouldn’t have heard so much of our conversation. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Dean knit his eyebrows, giving Cas an evaluative look. _If you don’t want to answer, just say so. Don’t change the topic. That’s kind of embarrassing for you._

The older man smiled sheepishly, yet also with an amused look in his eyes as he stated: “Alright, Dean. I would like to tell you about her, really, but maybe some other time? It has already been quite the emotional morning, and I promised Ellen to bring you home before noon.”

Dean’s eyes widened frantically, shit, he totally forgot to text his parents! They must be worried sick, they-

“Stop worrying, I called her yesterday. She knows where you are and she knows when you’ll be home”, Cas said in a soothing voice. Either that man was really good at reading Dean or he was a psychic, because somehow, he always seemed to know what Dean was thinking. “Now, come on, let’s get some breakfast. I really don’t want to be late, Ellen is already scary enough as it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Later that day, Dean and Cas stood on the porch at the Singer’s.

The impala cooled down in the driveway, seeing as how Dean was the one who had driven them. Cas had insisted on accompanying him, planning to walk the short distance to the bakery afterwards.  

Ellen had apparently already been waiting for them, considering how the door was yanked open abruptly, revealing a glaring Ellen just seconds after they had knocked. Her gaze softened slightly as it fell on Dean, yet this did not stop her from shooting daggers at Cas.

“Come on, boys”, she sighed and shushed them inside. As Dean passed by her in the hallway on his way to the living room, she laid a hand on his back in a silent question. He gave her a reassuring smile. The last thing Dean needed was Ellen to condemn Cas. He was not ready to give up that newfound safe space already.

“You smell, Dean. Go up and take a shower, we can talk later.”, Ellen ordered. It was nothing like the orders Dean was used to from _before_ , yet he knew that revolting against her now would bring him a lot of trouble.

He looked at Cas and shrugged apologetically. There was nothing he could do for the man, that dorky guy in his oversized trench coat and with the beanie over his dark ruffled hair, seeming kind of lost as he stood in the middle of the living room. Once again, gratitude spread in Dean.

Without thinking too much about it, he moved through the living room until he stood in front of Cas. Dean gulped, trying to swallow his worries. Impromptu, he took another step forwards and laid his hand on Cas’ upper arm. _Thank you,_ he mouthed, a small smile gracing his lips and for one of the first times, he actually searched eye contact, blatantly enjoying the surprised look in these pure blue eyes.

“Dean. Shower. Now.”, Ellen interrupted, her voice icy. Dean took a step back, not without rolling his eyes a little bit. He turned to Ellen to give her a little kiss on her cheek, hoping that this might calm her down enough not to crucify Cas right here and now.

He didn’t miss her contemplating look, caught between anger and surprise, as he went for the stairs, not without waving at Cas one more time. As a response, Dean got a weary smile. Cas was an adult and he knew Ellen, he could fight for himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean really did not mean to eavesdrop, not again.

But as he heard his name, once again spoken in his absence, he experienced quite the déjà-vu. He had been on his way out of his bedroom, with a set of new clothes to wear after his shower. But, once again, he froze and listened.

“Dean really talked? Novak, I’m telling you, if you are shitting me here- “

“No, Ellen, I promise you, he did. And he seemed so… so proud. Like he couldn’t believe he was capable of doing so great.”

“He does that. Underestimating himself. That boy has no idea how others really see him.”

Silence followed, silence that allowed Dean to process what Ellen had just said. Was it… was that a bad thing?

“You’re good for him.”, Ellen huffed finally.

“I expected you to yell at me, to hit me, to threaten me with your shotgun. What happened, El, are you becoming soft?”

Dean held his breath at the sound of Cas teasing Ellen like that, but she just chuckled as a response.

“Careful, Cas. I can still kick your ass!”

Now, he was laughing, too, and Dean relaxed again. He enjoyed hearing his mom and his friend bicker like that, glad that they got along this well.

“But Dean is alright, isn’t he?”, Cas asked, concern lingering in his voice.

Ellen sighed: “Define alright. He’s getting better, and damn, if Bobby and I ain’t proud of that boy. He achieved so much and he just… keeps fighting. Dean’s a survivor. And as much as I would like to argue or threaten you or go and get my shotgun- you are good for my son. I see that. I might not like it that he finds comfort with a 26-year old, but the fact that he does find comfort in someone and especially in someone who we know and who we can trust… that’s a relief for us.”

“Thanks, El. He can be glad to have you and Bobby.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go, I have things to do. And if you ever hurt my boy- “

“You will kill me, I know”, Cas interrupted, by the sounds of it giving her a loud, nearly sarcastic kiss on her cheek. “Won’t happen, El.”

“Oh, kill you? Nah, I think I prefer live long torture.”

“Good to know you haven’t changed!”, Cas laughed.

Their voices became quieter, apparently moving to the door.

With that, Dean gave up eavesdropping and went into the bathroom.

 

Thoughts of that gravelly voice did not stop to occupy his mind for the rest of the day. Not for his shift at the bakery, not for his session with Crowley, not while he was once again drawing this evening. 

All Dean could think about was how thankful he was to be Bobby and Ellen's son, how lucky he was to have friends like Cas, Gabe and Sam and for once he even thought about how proud he was on himself. 

It had been a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me soo long to update! There is a lot going on here right now, so the next chapter will probably take a few weeks as well... 
> 
> As always, comments and tips are highly appreciated! :)


	9. I drank from the poisoned wine

A few days later, Cas filled in for Gabe at the bakery. It was a Saturday, one of the busiest days of the week, but Cas was glad to put up with the hectic atmosphere. He knew the burden this little favour lifted from his brother’s shoulders.

Today was not an easy day for Gabriel. Sam and his mother, Mary, had planned to go to the cemetery that day to visit De, the long-lost brother and son. And although they’ve come to accept the loss over the decade, it was good to know that they had Gabe as emotional support.

The story of De was a tragic one.

When Sam had been 15 years old, his mother had finally decided to file for divorce. Even nowadays, Sam didn’t talk a lot about his father, but from the spare narrations Cas had concluded soon that the separation from the abusive alcoholic had been long overdue. Young Sam had frolicked, looking forwards to a peaceful life with his mother and his six years old brother. It had been a good time for the little family.

It wasn’t until one day, when Mary went to get De from his elementary school, that things became even worse than they had been before. De was gone. His father had taken him, assuring the teachers that it had been allowed by Mary, ignoring the court order, kidnapping his own son.

It had been the last time they had heard of either one of them. The nescience of De’s fate was laying heavily on Sam and Mary’s shoulder, both hoping for the best, but fearing the worst. They knew his father’s unpredictability, his lack of empathy, his inability to control himself. They were well aware of what he had already done to De before. What he had tried to do.

After five years, the authorities had declared De dead, John’s past evident enough to conclude his motives. As much as it had hurt them, destroyed them, Sam and Mary had come to accept it. They have had to. They had buried De’s favourite Teddy, visiting the tiny, empty grave regularly.

And yet, after all these years, those visits were still hard for Sam and his environment, for those who loved him. Cas was only glad that his best friend and his brother had each other, supported each other. And if it helped them cope, Cas did not mind filling in at the bakery for a day, not at all.

That very day, he even went so far as to look forwards to working a shift. More and more co-workers had joined the little team over the last months, only starting with Dean. The business went well, which allowed Gabriel to employ more helpers, unloading some of the pressure from himself:

Kevin and Jess were college kids from KU, earning some extra money between their lectures.

Tessa was a struggling artist, depending on this second job at Gabe’s.

Lisa was a young mother starting her first job after her pregnancy, and the one who helped Dean and Gabriel in the kitchen. Once, she had even brought her son Ben, a happy infant near toddler age, to work. Especially Dean instantly took a liking in the boy, rather playing with him than working. Nobody could really resent it, it was too heart-warming to watch the normally so reclusive teenager coo over the giggling baby.

The last addition to the team had been Alfie, a thin man only a few years older than Dean, who could win over even the grumpiest grandmothers with his boyish smile.

They were a friendly group, and no matter how hectic the day could become, they always managed to keep the atmosphere welcoming and relaxed. It was a good fit, and that day was no difference. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel had stepped into the bakery, the rich smell of bitter coffee greeted him, accompanied by Gabriel, who wrapped his brother in a short but tight hug before storming outside. Cas was used to it; although Gabe normally couldn’t shut up at all, he became quiet when he was tense. His worry for his husband occupied his mind.

Cas took a glance around. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, therefore only few customers were there. Jess waited one of them, a purple apron with the bakery’s logo tied around her hips, a tray with several mugs in her hand. Kevin stood at the counter, wearing the same apron and using the quiet moment to chat with Tessa while she was refilling the vitrines. When he saw Cas, a smile spread on his lips:

“Hey, Cas, how are you?”

Cas grunted, not quite awake enough to effectively communicate, and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Kevin handed him.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”, Tessa teased without stopping her work.

“Good morning to you, too. Is everything alright? Any problems so far?”, Cas asked, forcing himself to function, but barely stifling a yawn.

“Jeez, the boss hasn’t even left two minutes ago, calm down.”, Tessa answered.

“Alright”, Cas sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. “Where do you need me?”

“Well, we are alright out here, but maybe Dean could use some help in the kitchen?”, Kevin suggested. “We might need you once the brunch rush starts, though.”

Cas smiled, a warm feeling, comfort, spreading in him. He always enjoyed working with Dean, which his co-workers were apparently well aware of. With a nod, he made his way to the kitchen through the seating area, waving at Jess before disappearing through the curtain.

 

* * *

 

 

The view he was granted when he entered the little room was one, he wouldn’t forget that quickly.

There stood Dean, with his back to him, shaking his hips and- dancing.

Earphones were plugged in a phone in the back pocket of his jeans, the music loud enough for Castiel to catch the static sound. The boy didn’t seem to notice him, because he kept moving, his hands occupied with baking something, but the rest of his body shifting rhythmically. It was a picture of a careless Dean, caught in the moment, somehow _free_. Castiel wished he could see Dean like this more often.

As if he had have felt his gaze on him, Dean suddenly whipped around, freezing when he saw Cas. Dean’s hair was ruffled, his cheeks blushed, building a sharp contrast to the freckles ornamenting his features. There was flour on his shirt, some even in his face, a box of colourful sprinkles in his hand, while he was panting heavily. It was only when Cas grinned and waved at him, aware of the sound blocking earphones, that Dean’s shoulders relaxed and a carful smile graced his lips.

Cas felt a stab of pain at the realisation, that Dean needed this kind of acceptance, needed to be told that what he was doing wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t stop himself from admiring Dean’s strength, even in this very moment, but knowing that someone  _did that_ to Dean filled him with anger. He couldn’t stop his smile from slipping slightly.

Fortunately, Dean didn’t notice, too busy with freeing himself from the cables of his headphones.

“Hello, Dean, how are you?”, Cas asked, forcing himself to relax. He couldn’t help him by being angry about the past. For Dean’s sake, he coerced himself to let it rest.

Dean smiled and signed: _Hey Cas! I’m good, how are you? Here to help?_

“Yeah, Gabe asked me to. What can I do?”

 _Well…,_ Dean glanced around, _Gabe told me to prepare the normal orders, so whatever you want to do, basically. Maybe you could prepare the ganache?_

Cas nodded and smiled, that was something he could do indeed. He went to wash his hands, and in a comfortable silence, they started to work next to each other.

“What kind of music were you listening to?”, Cas finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

With a huff, Dean signed: _The Rolling Stones, man! ‘Gimme shelter’ must be one of my favourite songs ever!_

And there it was again, that passion in his eyes. This boy would never cease to amaze Cas, he realised with a small chuckle.

“I see, Bobby had quite the influence on you.”, he said, barely refraining his laughter. “Did he show you his Bob Seger collection, too?”

 _One of the greatest rock writers of all time, dude!_ Was the much telling answer he got.

“Oh god, I already feel pity for Ellen for having two men listening to that music in the house.”, Cas joked.

 _Why, what kind of music do you listen to? Beethoven?_ Dean grinned teasingly.

“Occasionally, I do find classic music relaxing.”, Cas shrugged, cracking up when he saw Dean’s aghast stare. “But mostly, I enjoy Blues, Jazz, Soul. It’s so emotional, but in such a subtle way. Do you know what I mean?”

Dean chewed on his lips, he kept working on the dough he had just started, taking his time to answer. Finally, he signed: _Kind of. To be honest, this is exactly why I like rock. There is nothing subtle, nothing hiding in there. The music is the feeling, simple like that. It’s not disguised or masked, because it doesn’t have to be. In classic rock, you don’t interpret, you just… are._

He hesitated for another second, his cheeks blushing, then Dean quickly turned around, hiding in his work. Cas couldn’t help but stare at him. Once again, he was surprised by how wise Dean was, especially for his age. It led to another one of his internal battles, proudness over the boy fighting down the vague knowledge of where this wisdom came from. It hurt him, that Dean had been forced to grow up so quickly, that he had been confronted with circumstances that made him this shy, this insecure. If there was a person who did not deserve it…

Cas gulped, trying to get a grip of himself. Now was not the time, not the place.

“That is a very wise view you have, Dean. I admire that.”, he said, trying to reassure the shy boy how much he appreciated his opinion.

Dean quickly glanced a sheepish smile towards him, but he kept working, not signing an answer.

Cas sighed, wishing he could convince Dean of his worth, wishing he could help him get some confidence, but he accepted the silence. It was probably better not to overwhelm him.

After a few more minutes of quiet work, Dean was clearing his throat, making Cas turn. He hesitated, then he signed: _I just… Do you know if Gabe is okay?_

“Yes, sure, why shouldn’t he be?”, Cas answered, not really thinking about it, rather concentrated on weighting the ingredients.

When he looked back up, Dean signed: _He just seemed to be distracted this morning. Like he wasn’t really here._

“Oh”, Cas said, realisation dawning in him. “He didn’t tell you?”

_Tell me what?_

“Do you remember his husband, Sam?”, he asked. Dean nodded, so he continued: “I’m not sure how much I can tell you, it is still quite the emotional topic for him… When Sam was young, he lost his brother. Well, nobody quite knows what happened to him, but they don’t have any hope left. It has been a very long time, after all. They go and visit his grave today, together with Sam’s mother.”

He sighed, turning back to the working place.

“It’s always difficult for them, so whenever it is possible, I take over Gabe’s shift so he can support Sam.”

Dean stayed silent, processing what he had just heard. Cas watched him, his contemplating obvious. When the boy looked back up, caught him staring, he signed: _Sam has told me that he has lost someone once and that it was the reason he became a lawyer. This… this was not what I expected. At least he has Gabe. No wonder he was so tense this morning._

“Yes, they are a very caring couple.”, Cas said with a sad smile. “Has anyone ever told you how they met?”

Dean shook his head, the interest in his eyes obvious.

“When I was 18 I came out to my parents as gay. I knew they would throw me out, so I only did it once I had my scholarship confirmed. I moved out, but because we had lived near college, I didn’t get accepted for a dorm room. It took me weeks to find an acceptable roommate for an apartment nearby, but it was worth it. Sam quickly became my best friend, he still is today.”, Cas told Dean, smiling fondly at the memory.

“One day, Gabe turned up in front of our door. Our second oldest brother had found a video of him on the internet. A porn video. With his best friend. A man. He used it to blackmail Gabriel for months, until Gabe had enough and just casually came out during the weekly family dinner. Oh, and he outed the third gay Novak, the brother who had found the video, as well. They were both given the choice, to either go to one of these conversion camps, which Luke accepted, or to be disowned and thrown out, which is obviously what Gabe decided to do.

He had been the only member of my family I've been in contact with after they had done exactly the same to me just a few months earlier. It was no question that we took him in until he found a place of his own. Well, as you can imagine, he never did find a place of his own. The only move he did was from the sofa to Sam’s bed.

Sam had only been 18, like me, and Gabe was 24 at that time- nobody really gave them a chance in the beginning, me neither, to be honest. They are the complete opposites, but that’s probably why they fit so well together. Sam kept going to college, Gabe opened his first coffee shop on the campus, their relationship became more and more serious and four years later my brother proposed.”

 _Wow,_ Dean mouthed, then signed: _That is quite the story. I only have one question._

“Ask away.”

_Is Gabe really 32 years old today? Are you sure he isn’t a child trapped in an adult’s body?_

Cas laughed out loud: “What an accurate question. To tell you the truth”, he conspicuously leaned forwards “I am not quite convinced myself!”

Chuckling, they kept working, both caught in their thoughts.

“They will come over later, with Mary, Sam’s mother.”, Cas said. He knew that Mary was a very nice lady, Dean and she would probably get along great, yet he wanted to prepare him. “She might ask for your apple pie recipe, you are one of the first people to really be a competition to her in this domain.”

Dean blushed once again, glancing Cas a shy smile, which he responded with a soft, reassuring look. A voice from behind them interrupted the moment.

“Hey Cas, can you help us out here? We’re kind of shorthanded- “

“Coming, Kevin!”, Cas shouted back. He gave Dean an apologetic shrug, went to get some of the finished croissants that were cooling down on the counter, and brought them outside with him.

“See you later, Dean”, he said over his shoulder, leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Outside, it was hectic, the usual Saturday brunch rush.

Castiel spent the next hour rushing from the tables to the counter to the kitchen and back. Thankfully, there were no major complications, no broken coffee machines or overly complicated customers. It didn’t make it any more relaxed, but easier in any case.

When Gabe finally came back, followed by Sam and Mary, the worst was managed, the team finally breathing through. Cas greeted them with an exhausted smile: “Hey, great timing. We all might need a minute for ourselves after this shift! Could you take over later?”

“Sure thing, bro. You alright?”, Gabe grinned, his husband and mother-in-law already sitting down at a table by the window. It was a relief for Castiel that he looked so relaxed. A relaxed Gabriel meant that Sam and Mary were okay, too. Cas let out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Yes, I just wanted to check on Dean. I promised to help him when things calm down out here.”

“Do you mind telling one of the others to bring us some coffee? I’d like Dean and Mary to meet, but we should give her some time before… you know.”, Gabe answered, his grin slipping, seriousness flattening features.

“Of course, Gabe. Are you all okay?”

Gabe just gave him a pained smile, before heading over to his husband.

Cas looked at them for a second, all three wearing sad expression. Especially Mary looked battered. He sighed, and went to the counter, asking Jess to bring them their usual drinks. When he noticed that Tessa was missing he asked Kevin, who took her space behind the vitrines, that were filled with all kinds of delicious looking goods.

“She got a phone call, something with a family problem? She’ll probably be back in a second, don’t worry.”, Kevin answered, while packing muffins in a box for a customer.

“I don’t worry, but I need help cleaning the desks!”, Cas stated. Now that most people had left, there were a lot of used mugs and plates littering the little desks. He needed them neat before the afternoon rush started.

“Ask Dean”, was the only answer he got.

Once again, Cas sighed. He didn’t really want to. Dean felt comfortable in the kitchen, he wouldn’t want to pull him out of this safe space. Yet, he needed the boy’s help. Cas pulled the curtain aside, calling Dean’s name, who immediately turned around.

“Sorry for interrupting. Do you maybe have a minute to help me? Tessa vanished, all the others are occupied, and I can’t clean all the tables by myself. But only if it’s okay. I know you’re busy, too.”, he asked, somehow stuttering, still not sure whether this was a good idea. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t done this before, he knew how to move thorugh the seating area without having others touching him by accident and he had a piece of paper with him that referred them to another one from the staff if customers needed something. Yet, there were many people at the bakery that day, and Castiel knew that Dean felt better in the kitchen. Of course, the boy didn’t let a chance to help slip. He nodded, and signed:

_Sure, no problem. Just give me two minutes, so I can take the cookies out of the oven when they’re finished._

“What kind are you making?”, Cas asked, remembering how Gabriel had told him once that Dean had created several new recipes.

Dean seemed delighted that Cas knew, a proud smile gracing his lips: _I’m baking some white chocolate-macadamia. They were sold out quickly this morning, so I decided to make another batch. And even if we don’t sell all of them, Sam really liked them the last time he was here. I just thought… today couldn’t have been easy for him. Maybe he’d like some._

“That's very considerate of you, Dean. I’m sure he’ll be grateful.”, Cas told him, now flashing a proud smile, too. “They are here, by the way. And from the looks of it, they could really use some now.”

 _Well, then it’s good that those are still warm,_ Dean signed before grabbing some of Gabe’s terribly cheesy, purple oven gloves to get the cookies out of the oven. The smell instantly enveloped Cas.

“Oh my, those smell amazing!”, he stated, earning himself a chuckle from Dean. He watched the boy transfer some of the cookies to a plate, leaving the others to cool down. He seemed so confident in his doing, so fitting. Cas couldn’t help but feel thankful for a moment, thankful that his brother had accepted Dean as an employee. This certainly was a good environment for him.

He was so caught in his thoughts that he didn’t move until he found Dean standing by the curtain, plate with the cookies in his hand. Looking at Cas, he moved his head to the sitting area, a silent question Cas answered with a nod. Dean took a death breath, preparing himself for the crowd, before he made a determined step forwards.

Cas followed him. “Sam, Gabe, and Mary are at the table by the window. Do you want me to come with you?”

Dean only nodded, seemingly tense. To buy him some time to calm down, Cas made a little detour to the counter to look whether the coffees had already been brought to them, too. They hadn’t, so he grabbed a tray and loaded the three mugs on it, signing Dean to follow him.

“Hello, Mary. Hello, Sam. We come bearing treats.”, Cas greeted once they reached the table. They glanced up, smiling at them while Cas dished out their drinks. “Coffee from me and some special cookies from Dean here.”

He stepped aside to make space for Dean to place the plate at the table. As often when he was around strangers, Dean’s demeanour had changed back to submissive, his head bowed, chewing on his bottom lip. Yet, a shy smile marked his features as he gave a little wave.

“Are those the white chocolate-macadamia cookies from last time?”, Sam asked, mouth agape. He didn’t even wait for an answer before digging in and moaning around a bite, making Gabe turn beet red.

Mary just grinned and turned to Dean. She gave him an evaluating look, carefully masking her expression. It was odd, Mary was normally a very outgoing person, never judging, always with open arms, so Cas blamed her behaviour on the stressful day. It wasn’t how she usually acted.

“Hello, Dean.”, she finally said. “It’s nice to finally meet you, the boys have told me a lot about you. I’m Mary, Sam’s mother.”

Dean gave Cas an asking glance, beginning to sign, then he let his hands fall again, raking them within each other. Realisation dawned in Cas, he leaned to Dean and softly, calmly reassured: “It’s okay, Dean. You can sign. I will translate it.”

The boy looked up at him, his nervousness making him appear even younger. Cas wanted nothing more than to just wrap him in a hug and protect him from the world, even more so when he mouthed:

 _Thank you._ Turning to Mary, yet still looking at the floor, he kept going: _It’s nice to meet you, too. Gabe cannot stop swarming about your apple pie._

Mary’s gaze didn’t leave Dean, not even when Cas translated, and a soft smile spread on her lips.

“Neither did he shut up about yours. I hear you are quite the baker? Do you enjoy creating new recipes?”, she asked, taking herself a cookie.

Dean glanced up at her, his cheeks blushing, and nodded.

“Well, I must tell you, these are exquisite! You are really talented, Dean. Maybe, one day, you could show me how you’re making them?”, she suggested.

Dean nodded again, the shy pride obvious in his still reserved demeanour.

“Great, I look forwards to it.”, Mary winked, yet Castiel thought that somehow, her smile seemed a bit forced. It was an unusual look on her, and made him feel uncomfortable.

“We hope you enjoy the cookies, but Dean and I have work some work to do. Come find me before you leave!”, he excused them, not being able to resist the urge to bring distance between this strange version of Mary and Dean.

They waved again, then they separated, each starting at a table at different ends of the room. Cas was caught in his thoughts again as he started collecting the used dishes. This had been an odd encounter. Over the years, he had come to grow close to Mary Campbell, her being the closest thing to a mother he had in his adult life. She was open, accepting, listening- more than he could say of his biological mother. And while Castiel highly appreciated her help, her support over the years, the version he had just seen of Mary was a new one for him.

He really hoped she and Dean would get along. They were both part of his life. Come to think about it, they were quite similar: Both were extremely caring for the people in their environment. Both were very good bakers. They even looked kind of alike, with the same green eyes and-

The sound of dishes falling to the ground and shouting brought him out of his reverie, a loud voice yelling: “Damn’ it boy, how stupid can you be? Is there anything you’re good for? Look at me when I fucking talk to you!”

Castiel whipped around, just in time to see a massive, brutally looking man stand up, taking a step forwards to Dean. The boy himself looked frozen, eyes wide. Cas knew that look. He started moving to them, hoping he could get through to Dean before he had a full-blown panic attack. It was only when the man touched Dean, shoved him back by his shoulder, only when Deann fell backwards to the floor, that he picked up speed. At the same time, he saw movement at the other side of the room, his brother running towards them, too.

“How dare you?”, Gabe shouted, surprisingly threatening for his short height. “How dare you attack my employee?”

Castiel immediately went to Dean, to check if he was hurt, to help him, to minimise his panic attack. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the customer shoving Gabe now, yelling something about suing him. He saw Sam running to help his husband, holding the man back, telling him to shut the hell up. He saw Mary, staring at all of them, frozen in shock.

Yet, Cas ignored all of them. The only person he concentrated on was Dean, sinking to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, making himself smaller and smaller, silent tears the only evidence of emotions on his otherwise rigid face. Cas kneed down in front of him, tried to make himself look as non threatening as possible.

“Dean”, he said calmly but sternly, attempting to get his attention, to distract him. “Dean, do you hear me?”

He held out his hand, softly touching his cheeks like he had done it the last time. All this lead to was Dean shrinking back further, letting out a heart wrenching whimper. Cas slowly started to panic himself. He didn’t know how to help Dean, only seemed to make things worse.

“Dean, I need you to concentrate. Come on, I know you can do it. I believe in you. You are so strong. Dean Singer, look at me. Please.”, he pleaded. Dean didn’t react, only staring into emptiness, shaking worse and worse.

Suddenly, Cas felt a warmth at his side. Mary was kneeling next to him, her gaze fixed on the trembling boy. Cas barely registered Sam shoving the attacker outside, Gabe asking the other customers to please, please leave; hell, he didn’t even realise the puddle of warm coffee he was kneeling in. All he recognised at that moment was that Mary had started to sing, softly, concentrated on Dean.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,

Take a sad song and make it better,

Remember, to let her into your heart,

Then you can start, to make it better…”

Castiel let out a shaky breath when he realised, what she was doing, how she was trying to distract him. It was a good idea, an excellent idea. Music was well known to help during panic attacks, and considering the enthusiastic elaborations Dean had done this morning, it might even be the right method for him.

Or so Castiel thought.

Because while the Beatles song made Dean snap out of his numbness, he only started to tremble stronger, whimper louder, his breath became more and more ragged.  He looked around frantically, whispering pleads, begging someone to stop. He screamed loudly, becoming more and more petrified.

 

It was only when Dean blacked out that they could carry him into Gabe’s office. Cas held him, keeping him on his lap while he settled down in one of the big armchairs, wrapped the boy into a warm blanket. It was because of psychological reasons, he told himself. Dean needed to feel that he wasn’t alone. He needed to be held to stop shaking. He needed to be embraced to stop whimpering, to realise that he wasn’t _there_ , wherever that was, anymore.

Cas felt Dean’s tears soak into his shirt where the boy’s head rested on his shoulder. He heard Gabe call Ellen, telling her what had happened over the phone.

Castiel felt so powerless. He couldn’t help Dean, couldn't protect him, couldn't save him.

All he could do was hold him.

So that’s what Cas did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad news: I'm a slave to procrastionation.  
> Good news: This means- there's already a new chapter!
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhanger, explanations will follow
> 
> As always, comments and tips are highly appreciated :)


	10. Hope that I've been found before I hit the ground

_Back then, when Dean had been really, really desperate, he had sometimes hummed this one song. He didn’t remember it’s title, nor very much of the lyrics, just that it started with the words “Hey Jude”. It was one of the only things he had remembered from his life_ before _._

 _The beatings, the always prominent flash of pain, the touching, the… they had clouded his mind. Dean hadn’t even known who he was, or_ why _he was anymore. All he had known at that point was that there was this man who was abusing him, who was deciding for him, who had made him what he was that day- just an empty vessel._

 _Dean did not remember being Dean, but he had remembered some things. When he had been in delirium, spaced out, trying to busy his mind, he had sometimes been able to smell apple pie. He had felt long hair in his tiny toddler hands. He had heard a boy, nearly a man and yet not comparable with_ that _man. He had heard him sing “hey Jude”. He had heard a woman laugh and sing with him. He had felt a hand, cupping his cheek, a soft hand, that touched him just to comfort him, pure and simple like that. Dean had felt what he could only describe as love._

 _Of course, it didn’t take Alastair long to see Dean’s empty eyes. He had made it a challenge to himself to always bring the boy out of his reverie, punishing him hard enough to nearly take his last headspace from him. Dean had known that trying to flee from the pain would only lead to more pain. Yet, he couldn’t resist it. The apple pie, the singing, the love- they were what kept him alive even when he had thought of himself as empty. They had been the only thing_ he _would never be able to take from him._

_Which is why, when after days alone, enchained by his hands to the ceiling of the small cage-like structure and by his knees to the floor of it, not being able to move, not having had food or water for way too long- when Dean had heard the door to the basement open, he had abruptly stopped humming. Why he had thought that this would be his last moment. That it was time for his death._

_He had been too weak, too old, too used, as Alastair had never ceased to remind him. After all, this was why John had given him up, wasn't it?_

_This rebellion, this humming- it would have been the last straw. Dean had known that Alastair would want to punish him and he had known that he would not survive it. Not this time._

_So, the boy had just closed his eyes and had escaped in a world of apple pie, soft voices and love for what had seemed to be the last time. And for the first time in years, what he had felt was not fear, despair or depression. No, in this very moment, sure it would be one of his last ones, Dean had been relieved._

_After years of John, years of Alastair, years of pain, Dean had been ready for the end._

_Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…_

 

The next thing Dean knew was that here was screaming. His screaming. He was in his bedroom, tangled in a strange blanket, moonlight shining through his window.

He hasn’t had a nightmare that bad, that livid, in a long time. Sweat was damping on his forehead, his limbs shaking, breath coming out ragged and heavily. Theoretically, he knew where he was. He knew that he was safe. But the flashback had benumbed him. He wasn’t able to think clearly, it all seemed too real, too present, too-

His scream must have woken his parents, because seconds later they stood in his bedroom. It only took them a moment to realise what was going on, what made the boy tremble, what made him yell and cry this terribly. They shared a quick, shocked look.

Ellen instantly made her way over to the bed, carefully touching Dean. When he didn’t shy away, she embraced him in a tight hug, stroking his back in soothing circles while the boy buried his face in her shoulder, seeking her warmth.

“Sh, Dean. You are okay, honey. You are alright. We’re here now.”, she said softly over his sobbing. “We’re here for you, honey.”

Bobby came back from the bathroom with a wet towel, handing it to her. With a sad, thankful half-smile, Ellen took it from her husband, laying it carefully around the boy’s neck. The past had shown that unusual sensations, like ice or wetness, helped him snap out of it.

Bobby settled next to her as she continued caressing their son, holding him close to her.

It took them nearly a full hour to calm Dean down, until he fell asleep again. His breath was evening out, his body stopped to shake. And yet, once he had stopped clinging to Ellen, they didn’t leave the room. They wouldn’t leave Dean.

 

* * *

 

His nightmare must have been bad, Dean thought as he woke up again.

As often, he didn’t remember much, but Ellen and Bobby sitting on the little couch in his room were enough of a hint. If it had woken them up, if they had stayed afterwards, it must have been _really_ bad.  Bobby’s arm was slung around his wife’s shoulder, her head resting against him, eyes closed. Bobby on the other hand was wide awake, giving Dean an evaluating gaze. There were dark rings under his eyes, a desperate look in them, and Dean couldn’t ignore the stab of guilt he felt.

It was his fault. He had woken them up. He had worried them again. Was still worrying them.

Dean rubbed his eyes as he slowly sat up, pulling his legs to his chest as he always did when he was insecure, and looking down. It took him a few minutes until he had built up the courage to look up again, look at Bobby, and he whispered, his voice raw: “I’m sorry.”

Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise, suddenly shimmering from unshed tears. His lips turned in a slight frown as he began to shake his head, opened his mouth to say something, but Dean interrupted him.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. So, so- “

He stopped, biting on his lip, trying to stop himself from crying again. Dean wanted to show his parents that he was alright, damn’ it, not prove them how much of an emotional wreck he was.

Too caught up in his inner fight, he didn’t even notice how Bobby gently pried himself from Ellen, went over to him. His touch made Dean shy away at first, until he realised, where he was, with whom he was.

Dean gave up, and sobbingly threw himself at Bobby. All his dams were breaking, his masks were falling. He was at a point where fighting had no use, especially not this fight. They were there for him, helped him. There was no benefit for anyone in keeping up this act, Dean thought.

“I’m sorry”, he sobbed again into Bobby’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry so much about me. I just want to be better. I just want to…”

“Dean, when we worry about you, we do it because we chose to do it. We chose to be your parents, this makes it our job to worry about you. If you hide your emotions, we are just even more alarmed, boy.”, Bobby answered, his voice gruff, shaking slightly. Then he sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder what we can do to make you realise that we love you, that you are our family and we won’t ever abandon you. Do you hear me, Dean? Never, never, will we hurt you.”

Dean glanced up. He wasn’t trembling anymore, yet he couldn’t bring himself to talk or even sign. He just wanted to stay wrapped in Bobby’s warm hug, feeling more protected, safer, than he had in a long time.

“Honey”, Ellen’s soft voice made him turn his head. She had apparently woken up, sat down on the other side of the bed, ran her hand through his short hair while looking at him as if she was searching for something in his face. “Honey, we couldn’t be happier to have you. Nothing in the world can change that. You are our son, and one doesn’t ever give up their children.”

“John gave me up”, Dean rasped without thinking. He had lost all his barriers, just said what came to his mind. “He is- was. He was my father and he gave me away.”

 

It was the first time he told anyone.

The first time he talked about his past.

The first time he stopped being afraid of what they might think of him if they knew the truth, if they knew how bad he had been, how disobedient.

After one year of therapy, Crowley didn’t know any more than what was written in Dean’s file. Bobby and Ellen didn’t know any more than what Dean had screamed in his nightmares, out of control, too emotional, shaken, to act how it had been expected from him _before._ Even his few friends did not know anything above what they could deduce themselves.

But now… Dean just didn’t have the energy anymore to keep fighting this stupid battle. He gulped, letting his tears flow freely, and kept going. He decided to keep going.

_John said I wasn’t good enough because he had to bring me to the hospital that time. I couldn’t breathe anymore, I was too weak, I couldn’t- it wasn’t like I had decided to bring him into difficulties, I swear. I really didn’t, I n_ _ever wanted to be a burden._

_John had told me that he couldn’t handle me being a burden, nobody could, I was supposed to help him after all, not hold him back._

_When I woke from the surgery he told me that I had been too weak. Too fragile to be allowed with him anymore. He was my only… the only contact I had but I was too much of a liability. I understand it. It wasn’t really his choice._

_John gave me to the surgeon. It was kind of him, at least he gave me to someone who could look after me. It could have been worse._

Dean looked up as he echoed those words, the very last words he had ever heard of John, only to see Ellen and Bobby staring at him, wide eyed, shocked, Ellen even with tears in her eyes. He wasn’t sure whether this was a reaction to how much he had said or what he had said or just the fact that he had said something, so he repeated, tried to reassure them:

_It could have been worse._

Ellen turned around, looking away from him, so he could only see the back of her head, her shaking shoulders.

Something in Dean broke. He had known it. Had known that he should have just shut up. Had known that it was a mistake to lade his past on them. But now it was too late, she was already rejecting him, she was realising how _b_ _ad_ he was.

The boy started to freak out, to hyperventilate, started to worry, worry what exactly he had said that made him seem so wrong, that made him seem disgusting, seem bad. He shouldn’t have hoped otherwise. Dean knew that he was used. He wasn’t worth the trouble. And now, he even made her cry.

He started trembling again, pulling back, making himself smaller.

Bobby stopped him. He pulled him close, hugged him again, held him tightly. With his other arm, he pulled his wife to him.

Dean was numb, overstrained by the situation.

“Mam. Don’t.”, he whispered, holding out his hand for Ellen to take. He couldn't stand seeing her cry because of him. “It’s not worth it. I’m not… You know.”

Ellen sniffled one last time, wiping the tears away from her eyes. She lifted herself up, took the hand that was not intertwined with his and cupped his cheek with it.

“No, honey, I don’t. I don’t know.”, she said, her eyes dolorous.  Taking a deep breath, she continued: “Dean, I have something to tell you. Can you listen to me?”

Dean nodded, gulping, pulling up his shoulders to make himself smaller. He had acted against rules; the rules that had once been brutally beaten into him, that yet had no value here, that were even in conflict with what they, his family, wanted him to do. He was too confused to know what was happening anymore, so he did what had worked back then. He submitted.

Ellen didn’t take it. She shifted her hand from his cheek to his chin, lifting it up, making him look at her. She didn’t talk until Dean searched her eyes with his own.

“I want to tell you what I see when I look at you. I want you to listen and I want you to understand.

Dean Singer, you are strong. I don’t care what John has said. That man had no right, nor is he of import. What he has done was wrong. What he has done to you… What he has told you was wrong. He was the one who was weak, Dean, do you hear me? He was a grown man who made himself seem strong by letting it out on an innocent child. You on the other hand, you survived it, you came out even stronger. You didn’t let him break you or let him turn you into the monster he was, which makes you one of the strongest persons I know.

Dean Singer, you are a lovable person. Everyone sees it, everybody who meets you can’t do anything but fall for you. Whenever I go to the library, Anna asks me how you’re doing, when you’re coming by again. Every day, my colleagues ask me about you and if there is anything they can do for you. Even a blind person can see how much Gabe adores you, how much Sam admires you, and I won’t even start talking about Castiel. And we, Bobby and I, your dad and I- from the day we met you we were enveloped by your kindness, your empathy, your selflessness.

Everybody around you sees what a great, truly astonishing person you are- everyone but you. And this is the part I want you to understand, I need you to understand. You are not with John anymore, or with _him_. We don’t expect you to act like they made you act, hell, we don’t want you to. Because Dean, we can see when you are yourself and we can see when you’re hiding. And we know which Dean we prefer.

All you have to do for us to be happy is be yourself.”

She smiled softly at him, leaning down to give him a kiss on his cheek.

“Okay?”, Ellen asked, looking at him like she expected an answer.

Dean gulped, processing what she had just said.

There was a lot he didn’t understand, a lot that contrasted with what he had been taught, a lot that didn’t correlate with how he had experienced things- but he nodded. And then again, with more confidence, he sat up, not needing Bobby’s solid form anymore to sit straight, and nodded.

Ellen rewarded him with a smile, and she leaned forwards to hug him.

“We’re proud of you, son.”, Bobby said, his gruff voice unnaturally soft, moved.

“So proud!”, Ellen supported her husband as she pried herself from Dean’s embrace. “You know that we love you, right, honey? No matter what has happened, what happens right now or what will happen- we will always love you.”

 _I love you, too._ Dean signed. And while there was a lot more on his mind in that moment, this was all that mattered. His love and his gratitude towards his parents were all that mattered. A smile, a real smile, graced his lips, as he looked up to his parents sitting at either side of his bed and repeated: _I love you, Mom, Dad._

 

* * *

 

If it would have been Dean’s choice, that day would have become a normal day. He would have gone to work his shift at the bakery, maybe take one more Xanax than usual, probably call it an early night, retreating to the Impala to process the day in a new drawing.

The problem was just, that it wasn’t his choice.

What he had told them about his past had apparently shocked Bobby and Ellen more than he anticipated. It hadn’t been Dean’s intention, but now they were even more worried, even more agitated.

As if he would have changed between yesterday and today, Dean thought bitterly as he parked his bike in front of the cold grey building that held Crowley’s office. They had insisted that he would go to the therapist instead of work, although it would have normally been a Sunday, one of his shrink-free days. Already feeling guilty as it was, Dean had not put up a fight. It was just for an hour, and if it eased his parents’ minds, he could do it. Biting the inside of his cheek, he went to the door and gave Ruby, the receptionist, a small nod as he always did.

“Mr. Singer. Doctor Crowley is already waiting for you. Just go right in, sweetheart.”, she said, her wide smile looking almost feral and making Dean cringe. He didn’t like her, hated it when she pet-named him like that. But he just nodded again and went to the door to Crowley’s office, knocking carefully.

“Come in.”, the well-known, sassy voice answered. Dean slipped inside, not looking up at Crowley until he sank in one of the low, overly big, black-leathered chairs. The man sat on his throne behind the tall desk, observing him, sending chills down his spine.

“Dean. What a pleasure to see you today.”

All he could do was stare at the false smile that was plastered over the man’s face.

“Come on now, don’t shut me out. I heard that you had another fit today as well as yesterday. Tell me about it.”

Dean kept quiet, didn’t even sign. He hated this formulation, this commanding, this man. Dean hated being here, and right now, he didn’t have the energy to keep up his usual act. He just hunched himself closer.

Crowley leaned forwards, leaned over his desk, a predatory view in his eyes.

“Don’t play with me, Dean. Tell me what happened.”

When the only answer he got was a head-shake, he leaned back again, back in his throne, assessing Dean.

“You know, your mother was so proud of you when she called this morning. She said that you were talking, not because you were out of control, but because you wanted to. She said that this was the second time this happened, imagine my surprise, my disappointment that you haven’t told me about the first time. She even said that you have told them about your past. She really sounded so damn proud.”

Crowley let out a short, sarcastic chuckle.

“I guess I will have to tell her that you didn’t make any progress after all. It was just coincidence. Your weakness getting the better of you. Poor woman, she already had her hopes up. She’ll have to face the truth. The truth, that you, Dean, are a liability to them. What. A. Shame.”

Dean’s thoughts tumbled.

This here- this had been his worst nightmare.

He could deal with everything that had happened. He could deal with what _they_ had done to him, with how _they_ had treated him. He had his parents after all. He had their help.

But this was his crux: While they granted him all the strength, the love he so desperately needed, Dean knew that he could not survive their rejection. He needed them so desperately, so much.

He loved them.

And they loved him, didn’t they? They had said so this morning, they had-

Dean suddenly looked up, looked Crowley directly in his eyes, the surprise over the blunt gesture obvious in the elder man’s face, washing away his smug expression.

Crowley was wrong, Dean thought. He was wrong. About everything.

What Dean had done this morning, how he had opened to his parents- it _was_ progress. Not coincidence, not weakness, nothing to be ashamed of, judged by.

How Ellen had reacted, why she had called the therapist- it was because of love, not demand. She would never see Dean as a liability, nor would Bobby.

And that Dean kept quiet now wasn’t weakness either- he had the fucking right to do so!

Crowley had no power over him. The men from his past had no power over him. This here, this was Dean Singer, part of a family, loved. He did not have to stay here if he didn’t want to.

The reason he was here was that his parents wanted him to feel better- but he didn’t. Crowley only made him feel worse. This was not what Bobby and Ellen wished for him!

A little smile spread on Dean’s lips, as he realised that right now, he had the power to say no. And he did so.

He stood up, slowly, enjoying each second of Crowley’s surprised, astonished stare.

Dean’s smile turned into a grin, and while he turned around to leave the office, to leave this therapist, he let Crowley hear his voice for the first time: “Bye, Fergus.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t that Dean had regrets concerning his decision. He knew that he was allowed to decide for himself. His parents had told him so. Yet, the fear that he might have betrayed them with this blunt, irreverent move spread in him. He hadn’t disobeyed them, not directly. If they wanted him to go to a therapist, he would do so. But not to Crowley.

Never again to Crowley.

Driving home on his old, rusty bike, Dean couldn’t help the fight that roared in him.

There was his old self, the Dean that was raised to be quiet, to accept everything, not to ask but to obey. The Dean that wanted him to go back, beg Crowley for his forgiveness and to forget what had just happened and just keep going as he had before. The Dean that yelled at him, told him how stupid he was, how worthless if he wasn’t even able to follow the simplest orders. The Dean that made him even smaller.

On the other hand, Dean could hear the people he loved. He could hear Ellen’s voice, telling him how strong he was, how much she admired it when he fought for himself. He heard Bobby’s voice, pledging their unconditional love for him, no matter would happen. He heard Cas, calling him clever and wise, calling himself proud to be Dean’s friend. He heard all those people and he decided not to give up.

It wouldn’t be easy to tell them. But they would understand him. Dean was sure that they would.

Reaching the little house that he has learned to call a home, Dean steadied himself. He took a deep breath, tried to relax. Everything would be fine.

Dean opened the door, slowly, carefully. He couldn’t help how tense he was, but the familiar, warm environment instantly gave him confidence. He could do this.

Voices from the living room distracted him.

How odd, he thought. Normally, Ellen and Bobby told Dean whenever they had guests so he could prepare himself, retreat if he needed to. They didn’t today. Dean checked his phone- but no new messages.

He was home earlier than normal, having cancelled his therapy session, disrupted his normally so accurate schedule. Yet, this did not explain why-

The mention of his name made him stop, just as he had decided to wait upstairs until the guest would have left. He didn’t need any further stress when telling his parents what had just happened.

“We have to tell Dean! He has a right to know, and Sam, and I have the right- “, a vaguely known voice sobbed. Just as he tried to remember who it was, Ellen disrupted his thoughts.

“Yes, Mary, we know. Believe us, we know, and we want the same. Not telling him wouldn’t be fair, we think so, too. But you have seen him yesterday. Do you really think he is in a good condition right now? Do you really think he could cope with news this life-changing?”

“She’s right. We will tell him, don’t misunderstand us, but right now, it would mean more harm than good. Have patience, Mary, for his sake.”, Bobby’s gruff voice said, somehow soothingly.

Dean tentatively stepped closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. What was happening there? What was Mary doing here? And telling him what?

“Don’t tell me to be patient, Singer!”, Mary snapped in this very moment, making Dean shrink back slightly.

Another sob filled the air, then, softer, she said: “Sorry. I’m sorry. But it has been so long. I know that it is better to wait. I want that, too, I just want Dean to okay, damn’ it!”

“But… you're sure, right? Sure, that it's really him? Oh, don’t give me that look, I don’t doubt you! But that boy has become our son, too, and we want to protect him. I don’t want him to go through all that just to realise that it was a mistake!”

“I know, Ellen, but there’s no way I couldn’t recognise my own son. His eyes, these freckles, even his smile hasn’t changed. And all the facts fit. His father… John fits. The only thing I can’t- “

Dean froze, not able to move, not even able to think. He just stayed there, listening. _Her own son?_ , echoed in his mind, again and again.

Silence followed, then Ellen’s sharp voice: “What, Mary?”

“When Sam was young, I sang for him in the evening before he went to sleep. We did the same for De, just that he always only wanted to hear this one song. Hey Jude. There was no way to get him to sleep without anyone singing that song, especially after John had tried… you know what. When Dean had his panic attack at the bakery, I acted out of instinct.”

Dean’s breath came faster and faster. This couldn’t be…?

“You sang Hey Jude.”

“Yes. But it only made everything worse, he became worse. I don’t know, but it doesn’t work out for me.”

It couldn’t-

Bobby sighed: “From all we know, John has been a manipulative bastard. He has used everything he could against that boy, everything. Dean has many issues, but the hardest for us to witness is when he says things like he wouldn’t be worth it or he wouldn’t deserve our help or our love. This is all John’s doing. Don’t you think something as comforting for Dean as this song would be the first thing he would use to brainwash him?”

Mary sniffled.

“One day ago, I thought my youngest was dead. I thought that his own father had finally succeed. Had killed him. For more than a decade I mourned him. Sam mourned him. And then, I go to my son-in-law’s bakery, just to find that the boy they were all swarming about is the exact boy whose grave I have visited just a few hours ago.”

She huffed. “I… don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier. This just seems so unreal. Way too good to be true. It’s like a dream, and I’m really, really afraid of waking up right now.”

Silence penetrated the room, Dean could hear feet shuffling, someone moving. He understood what they had just said, but the meaning somehow didn’t reach his brain. He was too numb, too shocked.

“What do we do now?”, Mary asked finally.

“We let him recover”, Bobby answered promptly. “The last day has been one hell of a ride for him. Give him at least a week to get himself together. Then, we’ll tell him. Carefully, slowly, not all at once. We will tell him that we have found his family, not John, the people he took him away from. And we will let him decide if he wants to know who you are, if he wants to meet you, or…”

“Or if he needs more time.”, Ellen ended the sentence, her voice softer than Bobby’s, soothing. “How will you tell Sam?”

She didn’t even give Mary the chance to argue about the way they were going to approach Dean. Right now, she was still his mother, she was going to look after him. Mary’s part was to look after Sam.

“He and Gabe will come over this evening. It’s better if they are both there to hear it. I’ll… I’ll tell him and I’ll hope that Gabe will make sure he reacts okay. I can’t think of a better way right now.”

“Sam’s no child, he’ll get it. Just give him and yourself some time, too. Dean’s not the only one who needs indulgence here.”, Bobby said.

“Indulgence. There is a big canyon between indulging and ‘hey, that brother you thought was dead? He’s alive, you know, it’s Dean, but he’s also traumatised, so we have to be really careful.’”

A sound pierced through the air, a heart clenching cross of a whimper and cry. It took Dean too long to realise that it was him, who had done it, him who just couldn’t hold back anymore.

When the door to the living room swung open, three pairs of wide eyes mirrored his own shocked expression. Dean blinked, from Bobby, to Ellen, to Mary. To her tear stained face, her red rimmed eyes, her soft, blonde curls.

She took a step forwards, wanting to comfort Dean.

But other than Ellen and Bobby, he didn’t know how to deal with him, didn’t know that touch, abrupt movement could make it that much worse.

She hasn’t even reached Dean when he shrank back with another whimper. He stared at her for another second, then, suddenly, he snapped out of his numbness.

This was too much.

He couldn’t handle it.

Dean felt as if he couldn’t breathe, a déjà-vu piercing its way into his mind. Back then, it had been a broken rib that the power of John’s hits had forced through his lung. This time, it was the shock, the fear of his own, his biological mother, that made him feel like he was drowning.

He whipped around, storming out of the house, ignoring his parent’s -all of his parent’s- yells.

Dean couldn’t deal with it, so he did what he could do best.

He fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sooo hard to write! All these emotions!  
> A lot of it is filler to show Dean's progress, I hope you like it anyway :)  
> And I'm sorry for the ending, but I'm sure you can imagine who Dean'll go to, so... 
> 
> As always, comments and tips are highly appreciated- either here or on my tumblr.  
> Oh, and kudos of course! This story has over 100 kudos now, can you believe it? I certainly can't!  
> Thank you all so much for your support :)


	11. Broke down, thought that I would drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is a chapter that should have trigger warnings, it's probably this one.  
> You've been warned.

Castiel was pissed.

In fact, he was really pissed.

How dare these ignorant bastards, these religious fanatics, these lunatics-

Balthazar interrupted his thought process before it had the chance to escalate: “Cassie? Are you still there?”

Cas took a second to breathe through, to calm himself, before he held the phone back up to his ear. This was not Balt’s fault, his manager was just the bearer of bad news, not its origin. Through gritted teeth he responded: “I’m fine. Just... angry. Mad. Pissed. You pick the term. After everything that has happened, one might think that the government had the intention to stop this circus- “

“I know it’s hard for you. But this has nothing to do with you personally. Don’t turn it into something it isn’t. You know best how fast they are with finding your weakness if you counter them too aggressively.”, Balthazar warned him.

Cas sighed. Indeed, he knew it. He had experienced it himself after all.

He had learned it the hard way in a discussion that was meant to be televised for CNN when one of them threw Claire and Castiel’s history with the CPS into the conversation. It had nothing to do with their topic – ‘extremism disguised as belief’ or something like that- had just been a move to discredit, defame, provoke him. Yet- it had worked.

The memory of this interview still managed to upset him, even years after.

“Of course, I know that. Are there any news about the lawsuit they filed?”

“Yes, you know I wouldn’t have called you with only bad news. I’m not suicidal. While ours lost in court, the judge already refused to even accept theirs as a case, so there are no worries for legal consequences on our side.”

“I had hoped so. It’s so surreal that we must fear their lawsuit while they are the ones who keep abusing and mind washing innocent kids. This world, Balt ...”

“But that’s why we have people like you. To make us face what is uncomfortable to see. You’re doing a good job, Cassie.”, Balthazar tried to ensure him, but Cas didn’t take it.

“But at what cost?”

“When you chose this path, when you chose to help children and teenagers in need, when you chose to make our society better, you knew that there were those people who wouldn’t accept it. Everybody told you before you published your first book that you’d have to fight. You accepted it gladly back then, do you remember? You wanted to change something in this world. Them freaking out like that- it’s a good sign. It means that they are scared, that you scare them, that you are a menace for them. It’s the biggest reward someone like you could get, Castiel. It means that you do change something.”, Balthazar said, his voice unusually determined. A stone fell from Cas’ heart.

“Thank you, Balt. I... I think I needed to hear that. Now, what do we do about them?”

“What we always did. What you always did. We keep fighting. Interviews, articles, readings, discussion rounds. Ask you brother in law if he has any cases that might be able to support you with individual stories. Find Meg and make her talk about her experiences with them. Search confrontation but stay your peaceful self. To win this fight we need the media, so we should get their attention somehow. I suggest you accept the invitation to the discussion CNN hosts, but that’s your call concerning your history with them. Think about it, then call me.”

“Alright. Give me a few days, then we can make concrete plans.”, Cas sighed. He wasn’t too happy with the idea of standing in the spotlight, but after all, he didn’t do it for himself. It was a means to a cause. It was to help those who were where Meg had been a few years ago. Those who needed help. Those he could help.

“Good boy. I’ll wait for your response. Now, if you excuse me, I have a date.”

“Do you, now? With whom? Anna?”, Cas asked, unable to supress the smirk, finally forgetting his anger. He remembered the flirty looks his manager and the librarian had shot each other during his last signing all too well.

“A gentleman remains silent and enjoys!”, was the snarky answer he got.

“And since when are you a gentleman, Balt?”, he teased his friend.

“Hush, Cassie. Have a nice evening alone with your cats, you hermit.”

“I don’t have any- “, Cas tried to argue, but Balthazar had already hung up on him.

Despite the anger, he had felt not only five minutes ago, he couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving his throat. Balthazar was not only his manager, but also one of his best friends, and while he might have some narcissistic character traits, he still always knew which buttons to push to help Cas. Hopefully, he wouldn’t screw up with Anna. After all, Balt deserved some happiness. Also, those two fitted really well to each other, Cas thought, taking the phone from his ear.

He already wanted to discard it to the big table in the centre of his home office, when the blinking light stopped him. In the twenty minutes, in which he had been on the phone with Balthazar, he had seven missed calls- all from Ellen.

Worry spread in Cas, what if something happened, what if Dean had another panic attack, what if he needed him?

He took a deep breath to stop his hands from shaking slightly, to calm down. He wouldn’t be of any help if he didn’t have control over himself. Cas took the phone and quickly typed in her number- but before he could press the call button, the doorbell interrupted him.

“Damn’ it!”, Cas cursed, and without losing the phone he went to the door to send the unwanted visitor away. He really didn’t have the time right now, he had to make sure that Dean was alright, had to call Ellen.

“What?”, he snapped, as he threw open the door. The view he had made him stop dead in his tracks.

No one else but Dean stood there, hunched together on his porch. His breath came ragged, creating little clouds in the air, his cheeks were flushed as if he would have run. His eyes were red rimmed, tear shot, wide open. His whole body trembled. With shock, Cas noticed that Dean wore neither shoes nor a jacket- in the middle of December! But the worst was the look Dean wore on his face.

He looked so sad, so desperate.

Dean looked... broken.

 

“Dean”, Cas breathed out, quickly hushing the boy inside to warm him up. While he expected Dean to shy away from the touch, the boy just stayed numb, didn’t even acknowledge Cas’ presence, just obediently followed his lead. His trembling became even worse.

“Come on, Dean, this way.”, he coaxed Dean to the living room, urged him to sit down so he could wrap a blanket around him, stop him from freezing. Then he kneeled down in front of him, searching eye contact with the boy.

“Dean, can you tell me what has happened?”, he asked with a soft voice. Carefully, he held out his hand, moved it along Dean’s freckled cheek. He was still too cold, too numb, but the guarded leaning into his hand was a relief for Castiel.

“Please, Dean, look at me. Are you okay? Is there anything you need?”

The only answer he got was Dean blinking at him.

Cas sighed, quickly giving the boy an assessing look: “You don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just get you comfortable, okay? You can lay down if you want to, just please be careful that you stay under the blanket, you are still too cold.”

He stood up, wanted to go to the kitchen to quickly tell Ellen that Dean was with him, to ask her what the hell had happened, and to get the boy something to warm him up, but the panicked look in Dean’s eyes stopped him. He knelt back down.

“Dean, I’m not leaving you. Do you hear me? I am not leaving you. But I need you to become warmer. Is it okay if I go into the kitchen for five minutes to make you something warm to drink? Five minutes, I promise. You can even come with me, if you want to!”

The tension slowly left Dean’s body, and while he still didn’t respond to Cas, he started to lay down, roll into himself, relax into the big couch. Cas gave him one last reassuring touch, squeezed his shoulder carefully, then he went to the kitchen.

While waiting for some milk to heat up, Cas quickly typed a message to Ellen.

06:57PM: _Dean is save, he is with me. Let me check if he’s alright, then I’ll call you._

06:58PM: _What the hell happened, Ellen?_

 

* * *

 

 

When Cas came back into the living room, a cup of hot chocolate and a few cookies he stole from Gabe’s sacred stack in his hands, Dean was gone. The living room was empty. So was the couch on which the boy had been curled up just minutes ago.

Panic flooded Cas’ system, as he called out: “Dean? Where are you?”

He discarded the food on the small table and ran to the front door, worried he might find it open or Dean standing outside, standing in the cold, but no. That was good, maybe he was still in the house, then.

Cas ran through his home, knocking on every door before he opened it.

Dean wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen.

Nor in the bathroom.

Nor in his office or the guestroom.

The last try was his own room. Cas was devastated, what if Dean wasn’t there? Where would he have gone to? How could he find him? Should he have stayed with him? Was it his fault?

Carefully, afraid of the picture of an empty room that he might see, Cas opened the door to his room. It was dark, as it was December and the sun had already vanished for the day. Only the moonlight shone through the tall window. His gaze fell on the bed- and he let out a sigh of relief.

There laid Dean, buried under a multitude of blankets, only the stubble of his hair peeking out. The mountain of comforters lifted and sank in regular periods with his breathing. He slept so deeply he didn’t even awake when Cas went to the bed, stroked his head softly.

“God, you have to stop scaring me like that.”, he sighed again, before he stood up and left the boy to sleep in peace.

Back in the living room he heard his phone ringing quietly. Without hesitation, Cas answered:

“What the hell happened, Ellen?”

“Is Dean alright?”, she asked at the same time. Ellen sounded terrible, panicked, afraid. She was his mother, of course she was worried. Cas decided to answer her question first.

“Honestly? I don’t know. He’s so... numb. He showed up here, totally breathless and frozen. I think he might have run here. I tried to calm him down, but he barley even reacted. He’s asleep now.”

Ellen sighed audibly, and Cas could hear Bobby calming her down in the background.

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

Cas didn’t even answer, helping Dean was no question for him.

“Ellen, Bobby, what has happened? I have never seen anyone like that, he looked...”, Cas stopped himself. Making Dean’s parents worry even more had not been his plan.

“What happened?”, he repeated quietly.

“It’s not on us to tell you. We have already betrayed Dean’s trust enough as it is.”

“You? He ran because of you? Ellen, please, just tell me the- “

“You heard my answer.”, Ellen interrupted. “Now tell me, do we come and get our boy or does he stay with you?”

“He can stay here.”, Cas answered without hesitation. “It wouldn’t serve our cause to rip him from an apparent safe place.”

Silence followed, then Ellen whispered: “Look after my son, Castiel. And call us in the morning.”

And the line went dead.

Cas kept staring at the phone. What the hell?

Not only did he still not know what exactly had happened with Dean or how he could help him; Ellen was acting weird, too. He had already been prepared for the usual “hurt my boy”-threats, but this? It was so out of line, so not Ellen. Whatever has happened- it must have been really bad.

He just hoped that it had nothing to do with Dean's panic attack at the bakery, Cas thought, as he went to grab the extra bedding from the closet. He made himself bed ready, well, more like couch ready to be accurate, in autopilot. His mind was too busy.

When sleep finally claimed him after hours of brooding, the senseless spiel of the TV playing in the background, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that Sam and Gabe were visiting Mary this evening.

Dean probably would not have felt good with too many people around him.

 

* * *

 

 

When Cas woke up, it was to screaming. A glance at the watch told him that it was barely three o’clock, yet he got up with a start. Dean was screaming, he needed him, he had to help him.

Cas stumbled to the bedroom, carefully opening the door. He didn’t want to harm Dean even more by shocking him.

Dean laid in the centre of the bed, still tangled in the blankets, trying to shrug them off but only getting more and more caught in them. His eyes were squeezed shut, but tears trailed down his pale cheeks. He was whimpering, screaming in phantom pain, trying to flee his nightmare.

Cas quickly hurried to the bed, carefully but determined sat down on the left side of the bed. He didn’t know how Dean would react, how he could calm him down or how he would only make him panic even more. In the end, he decided for the same procedure he used during Dean’s panic attacks.

Softly, he laid a hand on Dean’s right shoulder, leaning over him, trying to build eye contact without restricting him.

“Dean, wake up. Dean. Whatever you see is not real.”

Dean stopped lashing out, stopped screaming. Still whimpering in a terribly vulnerable way, still trembling on his whole body, he looked up at Cas wide-eyed.

“Dean, you are save here. You are with Castiel, you came to me, you fell asleep here, do you remember? Do you remember where you are? Who I am?”

He took his right hand and stroked the boy’s cheek with it. Dean seemed so much younger, so much more fragile than usual. It broke Cas’ heart.

“Do you remember that I’ll always be there for you when you need me? Always protect you when you want me to? Do you remember, Dean?”

Dean nodded, the first real response Cas got that day. Then, suddenly, he lounged forwards, threw his arms around Cas’ middle and cried into his shoulder. Too shocked by the gesture, it took the older man a second to react, to hug the trembling boy back, to comfort him.

“Don’t let him take me.”, Dean rasped, muffled against Cas’ shirt.

Cas couldn’t help but tense.

The thought that someone did that to Dean, made him so afraid, so scared- it nearly broke Castiel. He tried to get a grip, tried to relax for the boy’s sake.

“Never, Dean. Never.”, he whispered, and before he could stop himself he pressed a kiss on Dean’s hair. “We will never let anyone hurt you ever again. Your parents, your friends here, all your co-workers- we love you too much to allow that.”

Dean tightened his arms around Cas, held him close to him. Cas didn’t mind, he was ready to give Dean whatever he needed from him.

“Thanks, Cas.”, the boy whispered.

It took him nearly an hour to completely calm down, to stop whimpering and crying and trembling. Either way, he did not let Cas go.

“Are you okay, Dean? Do you feel better? Is there anything you need?”, Cas asked once he felt the boy becoming pliant in his arms.

Dean glanced up at him, gave him a soft, unsure smile, but shook his head. He released his grip around Cas, but still leaned against him, still needed to lean against him. With his now free hands, he signed the thank-you-kiss, leading his hand to Cas’ chin.

Cas couldn’t stop himself from also smiling when he recognised that gesture.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Dean. Really, really glad.”, he said, bringing his hand up again to stroke the boy’s head. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I… I don’t want to overstep any boundaries here, but… just know that if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you. No matter the time or place.”

He sighed. Now, that Dean was calm again, he should really let him sleep. Cas straightened his back, ready to get up, but Dean gripped his wrist tightly. He looked at him, fear back in his eyes.

“Stay.”, he whispered. “Please.”

Cas was torn. Yes, he did want to stay. He wanted to hold Dean, to make sure that he was alright. On the other hand, it must have been against every kind of decency he has ever thought he had- to be that close to the boy, no matter the context.

“Are you sure, Dean?”, Cas asked carefully, making sure that Dean didn’t feel like he had to, like it would be a duty to him, like he had to thank Cas in any way.

But Dean just looked up at him with this sad, devastated expression, and signed: _I don’t want to be alone right now._

The signs were hard to interpret in the nearly dark room, but Cas nodded. If that was what Dean wanted. Also, he did not want to repeat manically searching Dean in the whole house only because the boy was looking for comfort he hadn't provided earlier.

Cas sat back down on the bed and carefully leaned back, until he laid next to Dean, who had shifted away to make him space, but came closer now, shuffled under his arm, laid his head back on Cas’ shoulder.

Cas tensed. This wasn’t, it seemed, it was- unethical. It couldn’t be right for a 26-year old to cuddle with a 17-year old traumatised boy. But he felt Dean relax, felt him calm down with the closeness, and he decided to just roll with it.

For a long time, they both stayed quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

“I've never thought I’d see the moon again.”, Dean’s voice finally pierced through the silence. “It’s why I always leave the blinds open. Seeing it means that I’m not with _him_ anymore.”

As an answer, Cas tightened the arm around the boy, reassuring him that he was listening, that he was still here, that it was okay for Dean to talk. The boy took a minute before he continued.

“I grew up with my father, John. He was an ex-Marine and… he’s not a good person. I know that now. He travelled around a lot, did odd jobs, and I helped him. Although, most of the time, I just stayed at random motels. When I was young, this was the worst part. He dumped me in a room, told me not to contact anyone, and left, and I never knew for how long. I was lonely and hungry and I needed… someone. But there was no one. John kept me in complete isolation, him being the only exception.

When I was eight, the people working at the motel I stayed in at that time noticed me. I haven’t had anything to eat for days, so at night I snuck out to fish something out of a vending machine. They saw me, took me in, gave me food. Then they called the police. Child abandonment. The cops came and threw me in a foster family.

It didn’t take long for John to find me and just take me with him again. It was the middle of the night, I never got to say good-bye or thank-you to them. They have been a nice family.

This was the first-time John had hit me. It became my new worse. He was a powerful, a strong man. I don’t think he knew how strong he was. When I did not only leave the room, but also got caught and was so blunt to prefer a strange family over him, he lost it.

It was… bad. I couldn’t walk properly for a month, I probably had a concussion and my hero had evolved to my prison master, to my torturer.”

Dean gulped, looking above Cas chest out of the window, staring at the moon.

“Yet, he was the only person I knew. For a long time, he was the only person I could talk to. So, I stayed. Eventually he started sending me to run errands for him, go grocery shopping, take his laundry to the laundromat, or… deliver money to shady guys. It was on one of these errands that I’ve met Benny.

Benny was a good guy, he must have been twenty-something years old, I must have been something around thirteen, maybe fourteen. He was a cop that busted one of the deals my father wanted me to make for him. Benny took pity on me, he didn’t take me to jail but let me go. I think he saw the bruises. I know he saw the bruises. Everyone saw the bruises.

He gave me his number, in case I ever needed anything. When Dad found out that the deal had not been completed, that I had no money for him, it got bad. Really bad. I ended up bleeding and unconscious on the floor. When I woke up again, it was at least a few hours later, and it hurt, it hurt so damn much but I just couldn’t move, I couldn’t…”

Dean started crying silently at that point, moved closer to Cas, yet he still didn’t look up at him.

“I know that it was wrong, it was disobedient, but I didn’t know what else to do. I called Benny. He came by instantly, took me to the hospital, then home to him. He let me sleep in his guestroom until the cops would have found my father.

John found me first. He took me to another motel and he-

He-

He told me how weak I was, how stupid, how bad. With every new hit, he told me again. That I wasn’t even worth the hassle. That I wasn’t worth his attention, wasn’t worth being his son. I should have been thankful, he said, thankful that he put up with me. After all, he said, my mother had died because of me. That I would have killed her. That he would have lost her because of me.

John broke my rip. My rib pierced through my lung. I couldn’t breathe anymore.

He drove through three states to bring me to a hospital where we weren’t in danger of Benny and his colleagues finding us. I don’t remember much, just the pain, so much pain. I felt like drowning.

When I woke up again, they told me they had operated me, that I had to rest. They asked me what had caused the bruises on me. What had caused the broken rips. But I stayed silent, just as John had told me to. I wanted to prove him that I still was his obedient little soldier.

After they had left, he came in. He just told me again that I wasn’t worth it. He told me that he couldn’t keep up with me. That he didn’t even want to pay for the surgery bills.

So… he had sold me. To _him_. To Alastair.

Alastair… had been a paediatrician. He had been… my… my master.”

Dean practically spat out that word.

His crying turned into sobbing, uncontrollable sobbing, so Cas held him closer, held him against himself, soothed him. He didn’t trust himself to talk. Too awful, too shocking, too-

“With him I found my last worse.”, Dean kept going, after he had somewhat calmed down.

“Because it wasn’t what he did to me on the outside that was bad. I was used to the pain after all.

It was what he did to me on the inside.

Not only _like that,_ although…

My new worst was how he had manipulated me. How he had used me. How I was nothing better than a disposable toy.

That man made me hate myself. He claimed my freckles as his, now I just want to tear my skin off every time I look in the mirror. He punished me for every time I misbehaved, and even now this ‘education’ still sticks with me. He turned me from a person to a pet, and I don’t know how to get back, how to- “

“Dean”, Cas finally interrupted him, before the boy’s self-loathing could escalate. “You are not what that man did to you. Your past does not define you in any way. What you do now is important, who you are now.”

“But that’s the point, I’m still that stupid pet he made out of me. He told me that no one could ever love me.

No one. And I believed him, I still do. 

But then... then came Ellen and Bobby.

And, man, I’m working on it. It’s so hard, so difficult, I wanted to give up so often. But over the last year, I kept fighting. To make sure that I was worth their love, you know?

But then, this evening…”

Dean trailed off and sighed. Tears welled in his eyes again.

“This evening I found out that there have apparently been people loving me all along. That my life could have been so much different, it could have been _good._ I found out that all this time John used me as his punching bag, all this time I was near madness because I was so lonely, so hungry, so desperate, all this time Alastair had me locked in his basement, in this cage, whenever he hit me or shoved into me or manipulated me- All this time I had a family.”

Dean’s voice broke, the boy crying helplessly against Castiel.

Cas felt helpless, too. There was so much he wanted to do for Dean, he wanted to help him, make him feel better. But he didn’t know how.

What he has just been told, what Dean had just trusted him with- it was worse than everything he had imagined.

“Cas, I have a family.”, the boy whispered, for the first time looking up at him. “I have a family and the first thing I have done when I found out was fleeing. Because all I could think about was that I wasn’t worth it, didn’t deserve it, that nobody could ever love me.

I found people who have loved me for all my life without even knowing me, and all I could think about was _them._

I’m still their pet. They don’t even have to be here to control me. To hurt me. “

“Dean”, Cas rasped, his voice gruff from the emotions he tried to hold back. “I don’t think you see the whole picture here. Fleeing is not necessarily bad. Sometimes, you have to take a step back to protect yourself. Don’t blame yourself for that. Either way, this exact moment proves you that you are wrong in what you just said.”

Dean started sinking his head in shame, probably thinking he had done something wrong, but Cas didn’t let him. He softly laid a finger under his chin and made the boy look up again. His normally so vibrant green eyes were clouded with so many emotions, so much despair. Cas gulped and kept going.

“Think about it, Dean. Think about what you are doing right here. You open up to somebody. You allow yourself to feel what you feel. You are what I would describe as your wonderful, strong self. They don’t have a hand over you anymore, nor are you a pet or anything else defaming.

You are Dean Singer.

You are somebody who’s baking amazes even Gabriel.

You brought Ellen and Bobby so much joy, they love you being with them so much, I don’t think you even realise that.

From what I have heard you are an excellent artist and I look forward to see something you have drawn.

You have an affinity for your car.

You have a curiosity that is mesmerizing.

You have a passion about so many things, it's frankly astonishing.

Don’t you dare bashing yourself like that, when every person around you but yourself sees what a great person you are.”

“Ellen said the same.”

Cas huffed, his eyebrows knitted: “What, you don’t believe her?”

A careful smile spread around Dean’s features, a view that comforted Cas to a level of calmness he hadn’t reached all evening.

“She’s my mom. I think she’s biased.”

“Well, I’m not.”, Cas said determined. “We have no duty towards each other apart from the self-defined rules of our friendship. So, without any obligation, let me assure you that everything I have just said is the truth, pure and simple.”

“Who was is that said ‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple’?”, Dean sighed.

“Oscar Wilde. And there, just now, you did it again. You astound me again. Just like that.”

“Do you think they’ll think so, too?”, Dean asked hesitantly. He gulped. “My family?”

“They would be fools not to.”, Cas said determinedly. “But Dean… you already have a family. I’m sure you know Bobby’s “family doesn’t end in blood”-speech? Well mine doesn’t either. When you are ready to do so, if you even want to do so, meet your family. Talk to them. But keep in mind that you have nothing to lose, only more members to gain for your family.”

“I like that thought.”, Dean whispered.

 

Cas hugged him tighter: “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“I’m proud of you.”

 

 “Thank you, Cas. Really.”, Dean whispered after a minute of silence in the dark.

“Always.”, Cas answered, looking down at the boy sprawled half over and half besides him.

“No more chick-flick moments.”, was the last thing Dean murmured, before sleep claimed the clearly exhausted boy.

And although his mind seemed to race on double pace, although he was wrought up in everything Dean had just told him, although he wanted nothing more than to find the men that had hurt the boy and hurt them even more, Dean’s soft breathing and the warmth at his side quickly lulled Castiel into sleep, too.

 He couldn't wait to meet Dean's biological family. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?
> 
> And yes, I stole the Oscar-Wilde-thing from Sherlock... I just loved that scene soo much!
> 
> I hope that you liked the chapter anyhow :)  
> As always, comments and tips are highly appreciated!


	12. The war has been won here

Warm breath tickled Dean's neck.  

He shifted- or at least tried to. Strong arms were slung around him, held him in place, kept him in a comfortable embrace. Cas' arms.  

They must have moved in their sleep- while Dean had been sprawled over Cas' abdomen, practically clung to him when they had been falling asleep, it was Cas now who wouldn't let go of Dean.  

Dean sighed and snuggled closer into Cas' warmth. It surprised even himself, but he had to admit that he liked being the little spoon. It was an intimate position, he practically presented his vulnerable neck to the older man, trusted Cas completely not to hurt him when he bared like this.  

And yet. Dean knew Cas. He was the last person to ever hurt him, would still be there for Dean to protect him when nobody else would anymore.   

A smile spread on the boy's lips as he fully realised that Cas was in fact still here. He had told him everything yesterday, and yet, Cas was still here. He wasn't disgusted or disappointed or rejecting Dean, no, Cas just held him. Cas had stayed.  

Carefully, trying not to wake the other, Dean turned in Cas' arms, facing him. He huffed a quiet laugh.  

Cas' hair was even crazier than normally, ruffled, and Dean couldn't decide whether he wanted to smooth it or tousle through it. The dark lashes covering that shade of blue Dean came to love so much flattered slightly when Dean brushed his hand through the soft, dark strands. The boy stilled, afraid he might have disrupted Cas' sleep, but the man just let out a deep breath and cuddled further into the pillow underneath him.  

Dean waited another minute, making sure that Cas was really asleep, then he continued studying Cas' features. He stroked along the other's strong jaw, led his thumb over the bushy eyebrows, his nose, until he reached his mouth. Cas' lips were dry, slightly chapped. Dean's hand wandered over the man's face, while he kept regarding, studying him. Cas was beautiful. Not just his features, but...  

Everything.  

Dean admired the form of Cas' lips, was fascinated by them, but the smiles that spread on them were what really captured him, what made him feel all tingly.  

And yes, Cas' eyes were a miracle themselves, but it was the soft gaze that made them so special to Dean.  

Sure, the guy could probably easily woo a lot of people with his looks, but it was his character that made Dean stay. His patience and empathy, his weird kind of humour, his intelligence, his ability to make Dean feel like he could just be himself. His ability, to make Dean abandon the mask he had built himself. His ability to make Dean feel at home.  

The boy stilled with realisation.  

Oh shit.  

He had a crush on Cas.  

It was good that the man in question was asleep, otherwise he would have seen Dean's widening eyes, his blushing cheeks, his hand freezing, still hovering above his jaw.  

Oh shit.  

Well, this brought several new problems into Dean's life.  

Cas was older than him, older by nine whole years.  

He was successful, an adult, experienced in- well, everything. He could practically have anyone.  

He was just better. Better than Dean deserved.   

Worry spread in Dean. He loved the time spent with Cas. There was no way he would give that up because of a stupid little crush. He couldn't cope with losing the other, he depended too much on him. As it was in this moment he just  _needed_ Cas. He had practically become family for him, was as close as Ellen and Bobby.  

Oh shit.  

Ellen and Bobby.  

Dean had always known that he liked guys.   

He had liked them back then, when he had been thirteen and in the middle of his first make-out session with Aaron, whose father had owned the motel they were staying in at that time. He had known that he liked guys when John had found them, Aaron on top of Dean on the small couch in the rented room, hands cupping his face. He had known it when he had woken up the next day, laying bruised and bloody on the floor of the impala, when he had realised that he hadn't even had a chance to bid the older boy farewell.   

And, as much as it disgusted him, he had even known it when he had been at Alastair's.  

Ellen and Bobby- they did not know. He hadn't told them.  

Not because he didn't trust them, not because he feared that they would beat him like John did, not because he feared that they would use him like Alastair did. The past had simply shown him that often, it was easier not to change things. Not to provoke others when you could just shut up. Not to make any unnecessary moves.  

Dean's thoughts trailed off to Mary. To his mother.   

Sam was gay and he and Mary didn't seem to have a problem with it. Sam, his brother. Holy shit.  

A shudder shook Dean's body, made Cas grip him even tighter in his sleep. Dean relaxed instinctively into the touch. He knew he'd have to talk to them, that sometime soon they would want to confront him and it scared him like hell. But he also knew that Cas was there. He wouldn't let him go through it alone. He would help him meet his mother and his brother.  

Oh shit.  

Dean bit on his bottom lip, gulped.  

"Cas", he whispered, and then again, louder. "Cas."  

The older man grunted in response, muffled something into his pillow.  

"Cas", Dean repeated determinedly.   

And there it was. That shade of blue. The sky during a clear evening in September. The sea after it had been shaken by a storm. The- god, Dean sounded like a love-sick teenager. Which he was not.   

"Good morning, Dean", Cas rasped, his voice even rougher than usual.  

The boy gulped again, looked down, hesitated. When he looked back up, met Cas' bright eyes, a shy smile spread on his lips.   

"Cas", he whispered.   

Then, wide eyed, he stated: "Cas, I have a mother."  

A grin ornamented Cas' featured, he gripped Dean tight and pulled him into a comforting embrace. When he shifted back, brought an arm's length of distance between them, seemingly having realised how inappropriate their proximity should be, his grin turned into a smile.  

"Yes, Dean, you have. Do you already know what you want to do next?", he asked softly.  

"I...", Dean stammered. "I don't know."  

"Would you like to meet her?"  

"I already did. And yesterday, again. She was talking to Ellen and Bobby about me. It's how I've found out.", Dean admitted.  

"But have you talked to her?"  

"I ran before she could say anything.", Dean hesitated. "Do you think she even wants to see me again? I must have hurt her yesterday, surely she's disappointed now, disappointed how weak her own son- "  

Cas interrupted him: "Dean, stop. What you did yesterday was an understandable reaction. I'm sure it wasn't how they had planned to tell you, they'll get it. Either way, this isn't the question here. Dean, do  _you_ want to meet her again?"  

"Yes", Dean whispered without hesitation. "I want to talk to her. I want to get to know her. Her and... my brother."  

Cas eyes widened in surprise: "You have a brother?"  

"Apparently", Dean smiled softly. "He's nice. Friendly. Understanding. I think we'll get along."  

"Dean, that's great! So, you already know him? How?"  

Dean looked down, avoided eye contact. Cas knew what had happened to Sam's brother, and he knew what has happened to Dean. He had a clear picture of them both, and Dean was afraid that if he told Cas, these pictures would get mixed up. He wasn't a helpless toddler with a mourning family. He was the boy that survived getting abused, brain-washed and raped. He had been alone for most his life and knowing that he had a family, a mother and a brother, knowing that they had loved him once, that he would have had a chance for a normal life-  

"Cas, please, don't...", Dean began, searching distance besides his inner want to stay close to the other.  

Cas immediately tried to soothe him. He allowed Dean to shuffle back, but captured him with the intensive stare of his eyes: "Dean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just curious. I'd love to meet your family, if they are even slightly like you are, they must be a joy to be around."  

Dean smiled besides the anxiety spreading in him. He decided to be honest with Cas.   

"I don't want your picture of me to change."  

Cas' soft gaze vanished, his brows furrowed in confusion: "Dean, no. You should know best that our family doesn't define who we are."  

"That's not what I meant."  

"I don't understand, then. But Dean, rest assured, you'll always be you to me. I don't care about your past or your family or your scars. I care about you as you are now. As you cope with things, as you bake, as you laugh, as you paint, as you  _are._ This is what makes you special."  

Dean could only stare at Cas.   

Without thinking, he scooted over and back in Cas' arms. The man tensed for a second, but when he realised that this wasn't Dean searching comfort, this was Dean being grateful, he relaxed and mirrored the embrace.  

"My name is Dean Singer. Mary Campbell is my mother. Sam Campbell is my brother. John... John Winchester was my father.", he whispered lowly into Cas' neck.   

The second of tension in Cas' demeanour was evident enough that he had understood him, and fearing rejection, Dean tried to pull back, tried to protect himself from the imminent repulse.  

Cas didn't let him. He wrapped his arms around him even tighter, and breathing out deeply he rested his head on top of Dean's.  

They stayed like this for several minutes, Dean melting into the comforting touch.  

It was Cas who broke the silence: "So, you came home yesterday, heard Bobby and Ellen talk with Mary and her claiming to be your mother? She said you were  _De_?"  

Dean nodded.  

"Well, that explains a lot of things."  

Dean huffed a silent laugh, tension leaving his body. He should have known that Cas would react like this. He was Cas after all.  

"But you are okay, right? I know a lot has happened, this is a lot to deal with, but so far...?"  

"I'm fine, Cas. Not really looking forwards to all the confrontation, but I'll manage.", Dean answered.  

"You know that you don't have to do anything you aren't ready for, right? Start small. Talk with Ellen and Bobby. Talk with Gabe about it if you want to, he's you brother-in-law, so also family. Take small steps and wait until you're ready to go to Mary and Sam. You are the one who is important now, they can wait."   

Dean snuggled closer to Cas. Years of isolation and missing communication made him talk rather with his body than with his voice. It was why everybody he talked to was special, everybody he allowed to touch him was special, everybody whose touch he searched was special. It was how everybody must notice that Cas was so special to him.   

"Cas?", he asked quietly, shyly.  

"Yes, Dean?"  

"Will you...", Dean hesitated. "Will you help me? Please?"  

"Of course, Dean", Cas answered softly, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Whatever you need."  

Dean relaxed. He wasn't sure how he deserved a friend like Cas, he wasn't sure how he deserved anyone of his family, but for now he didn't have any energy to waste on this. They were here for him, that was all that was important at that point.  

The rumbling of Dean's stomach disrupted the comfortable silence. He blushed and tried to bury his face deeper in Cas' shoulder in shame, but the other just chuckled.   

"Breakfast?", he suggested slyly.  

Dean shifted back, just far enough that he could give Cas a taste of his bitch face. To his dismay, it only made Cas laugh even more.  

"I don't know how I haven't seen your relation to Sam earlier. You have the same annoyed look."  

The thought that he had a family once again brought a smile on Dean's face. He glanced at Cas, who regarded him with a soft gaze. Hesitating, he chewed on his bottom, then he gave Cas a cheeky grin.  

"Breakfast?", he echoed.  

Cas laughed again, this deep, low rumble, that did things to Dean.   

"Sure. Do you still remember where the bathroom is? I can... If you want to I could give you some of my clothes? You fell asleep in yesterday's outfit, something clean might be nice?", he asked, already standing up.  

Dean nodded and sat up. While Cas rummaged through the back of his closet to find something comfortable for Dean to wear, the boy stretched, and slowly peeled the blankets from himself.   

"These should fit.", Cas said, giving Dean a pile of clothes. "I'll be in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, take your time. There are new tooth brushes in the cabinet and if you want to take a shower, towels are under the sink."  

"Thank you", Dean accepted the clothes and already made his way to the door when Cas made him turn again.  

"Dean", he hesitated. "What... what do you want me to do if Gabe and Sam are here?"  

Oh shit.   

Gabe and Sam lived here, too.  

Dean felt panic spread in him, stared at Cas wide-eyed, hoped he'd have an answer for him. He wasn't ready, but it was their home, he couldn't...  

Cas interrupted his thoughts: "I don't think they are here. They went to visit Mary yesterday and I told Ellen and Bobby that you were save, they probably asked her to let them stay with her for the night. If they are here, I'd like to ask them to leave for an hour, but I don't want to decide for you. It's your choice."  

Not for the first time, Dean asked himself whether Cas could read minds.  

"Thank you, Cas. I just don't think I'm ready...", he trailed off.  

Cas gave him a soft smile and a nod. He understood Dean.  

  

* * *

 

  

When Dean emerged from the bathroom a bit later, he was freshly showered and dressed in an old pair of sweatpants and a plain white shirt. One look at the visible scars on his bare arms in the mirror made him add the flannel he had slept in. He just wasn't ready for anyone to see them, was too used to the long sleeves.   

As he made his way down the hallway, Dean couldn't help but smile.  

He felt comfortable in Cas' house. It was a warm place, literally and metaphorically. And god, did he love the kitchen.  

It was a tall room, modern, but furnished with heart. Wooden counters, coloured in a soft brown, were completed with bright red kitchen machines and supplies- probably Gabe's work. Bar stools stood on the other side of one line of counters, a table with real chairs on the other side of the room. What completed the picture was Cas, a cup of coffee in one hand, a spatula in the other.  

When he heard Dean entering, he looked up, smiling.   

"Coffee?", he asked. Dean nodded, and gratefully accepted the mug full of steaming bitter sweet liquid. He took a sip- and could barely supress a moan.  

Cas chuckled: "Gabe's work. He introduced me to these high quality beans and practically made me an addict."  

Dean's smile broadened and he held the cup under his nose, enjoying the full aroma of this heavenly coffee.   

"They weren't here, by the way. I think they slept at Mary's.", Cas added, before he scooped something from the pan in front of him on two plates. "Now, I hope you like toast and scrambled eggs. Breakfast isn't my forte, but I promise that one day I'll bribe Gabe into making us pancakes. You think the coffee is paradise? Then his pancakes must be heaven!"  

He went to the table and placed the plates, followed by glasses of orange juice and a can with more coffee on it. Dean followed, and sat on the chair Cas nodded towards, totally ignoring the tingly feeling he had when Cas had said that he expected this not to be his last breakfast with Dean. Sure, he didn't mean like  _that,_ but hey, a boy could fantasize.   

He smiled gratefully at Cas, before he dug in. He hadn't even realised how hungry he had been, but now, as there was food right in front of him, he could barely stop himself from shovelling in into him.   

After a few minutes of silent eating, Dean looked up to see Cas regarding him. He swallowed, and forced himself to slow down: "Sorry, I... I guess I'm hungrier than I thought."  

"It's no problem, Dean. I know that you haven't had any dinner yesterday, it's understandable", Cas answered with a soft smile. "I was just wondering. May I ask you a question?"  

"Sure", Dean answered. He trusted Cas to know the boarders Dean did not want to cross.  

"You don't have to answer, I'm just curious. I know that selective mutism is different for everyone, there are no rules. I'm just surprised that you don't seem to have a problem with talking right now- which is great, I like to hear you talking, I just... I'd like to understand it."  

Dean hesitated, waited a minute to find an accurate answer.   

"Me talking- it's either a really good or a really bad sign. I... I grew up supressing my emotions, so now they have to be really strong to break through. I mostly talk when I'm afraid or angry or panicking. Mostly. But recently... I don't know why, but somehow I also start talking when I feel really good. Not like hyper active or super happy, just... comfortable, I guess."  

A smile graced Cas' lips, made his eyes twinkling: "You feel comfortable with me?"  

Dean shrugged dismissively, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling, too.   

They kept eating in silence. It wasn't tense or a bad silence, but somehow homey. Nice.  

"I don't want to be unthankful, because Cas, I'm so, so grateful you helped me, that you still help me. I don't want to insult your hospitality, but... can I ask you for a favour?"  

"Dean, it's a pleasure for me. I always like talking to you, although I admit, I'd prefer talking to you about nicer topics one day. What do you need?"  

"I...", Dean hesitated.  

"Just tell me, Dean. I won't run. I'm here for you.", Cas tried to encourage him.  

"Okay, so. Ellen and Bobby barely know anything about my past. CPS know barely anything, Crowley knows, knew barely anything. They all read my file, read how I was saved, read where I was saved from. But I couldn't tell them more. I just... couldn't. You are the first-  

Anyway. Ellen and Bobby deserve to know. I want them to know. But I don't think I can do it, I can't face them when they hear it. I know that it will hurt them and I don't want to see that. Not because of me.  

I know it's a lot to ask and, you know what? It's too much, forget I said anything."  

Dean gulped and looked down on his now empty plate, avoided Cas' gaze.  

A hand settled on top of his.  

"You want me to tell them what you told me yesterday?", Cas asked softly.  

Dean could just nod.  

"Are you sure? Because I would do it for you, but only if you are certain that this is what you want."  

Shocked, Dean looked up, but all he could see in Cas' eyes was complete honesty.  

"I wrote letters. Letters, in which I told them what has happened. They are all in a box under my bed. Ellen and Bobby need to know, I don't want them to... But giving them a letter wouldn't be fair either, they need somebody to calm them down. I tried to tell my therapist, but I didn't trust Crowley enough. He would have just used it against me.  

I know that I'm asking a lot of you, and you don't have to-"  

"I'll do it", Cas interrupted.   

Dean stared at him.  

"Under one condition", he added. "I want you to ask me again after you have talked to Ellen and Bobby about what has happened yesterday."  

"You would really do that?", Dean whispered.  

"Of course, Dean", Cas started determinedly. "Also, I promised Ellen that I'll drive you home later. Do you want to talk to her and Bobby today, or would you like to have another day for yourself? I can't fight your battles, but if you need more time, I can tell them if you want me to."  

"I can do it. I have to do it today. Thanks, Cas.", Dean whispered, overwhelmed by Cas' offer. "But... could you come with me? Later? Could you stay?"  

"Of course, Dean", Cas said with a smile, gave Dean's hand a last squeeze and stood up to wash the dishes.  

Dean stayed seating, dumbstruck. Once again he asked himself how he deserved someone like Cas.  

 

* * *

  
The car ride to the Singers was a silent affair.   

Cas and Dean were both tense and both trying not to show the other their nervousness.   

Cas' white knuckles were proof enough how tightly he gripped the wheel, how stressed he was. It made Dean feel bad for dragging him into this mess, but he also knew that Cas wouldn't let him reel back. He had asked for help, Cas wouldn't abandon him now.   

When he pulled into the driveway next to the Impala, Cas took a deep breath.   

"Alright, Dean. Are you ready?"  

Dean stared at him wide-eyed. Then he shook his head no.  

"Dean, you don't have to worry. No matter what will happen, Ellen and Bobby will always be your parents, too. They love you too much to just give you up. Come on, we can do this."  

And he got out of the car, walked around it to open Dean's door. Despite his nervousness, the boy couldn't stop himself from smiling at the gesture. Once he stood outside, he leaned close to Cas and whispered a silent thank you towards him. Strengthened by the smile Cas rewarded him with, he took a few hesitant step towards the familiar path to the house, not without gently caressing the hood of his beloved impala.   

It was going to be okay. No matter what was going to happen, Dean knew that he would always have Cas.

Once they were on the porch, he didn't even have a chance to knock. The door flung open and Ellen instantly threw her arms around Dean, wrapped him in a tight hug.   

"God, you scared us, honey", she huffed, holding Dean back an arm's length under her scrutinizing view, making sure he was okay.   

The boy gave her a careful smile, then he signed:  _Don't worry, I'm okay. Cas has helped me._   

This made Ellen turn around, acknowledging Cas' attendance for the first time since they arrived. She gave him an assessing gaze that made even Dean freeze, then her eyes softened and she hugged Cas, too. Dean could hear her whisper something, could see Cas' arms tightening around her.   

"Hey, El", the older man said loud with a small smile.    

"Come on inside, boys.", she answered with a nod towards the door.  

Dean barely had the space to enter the living room through the small hallway before he was once again already wrapped in another hug.   

"Damn it, idjit.", Bobby grunted into his ear. "You don't know how good it is too see you."  

Dean relaxed into the embrace, petting Bobby's back. He pulled back, giving him a shy smile.  

"Sit down, boys.", Ellen ordered from behind him. "I think we are all in a desperate need of a talk."  

Dean instinctively froze, but Cas' hand on his shoulder made him lose some of the tension. He let himself be guided to the couch, where Cas and Dean now sat opposite to Ellen and Bobby.  

"How are you, son?", Bobby started, his gaze evaluating the boy. Dean smiled when he heard Bobby still calling him his son; it was putting an ease to his most present worry that was losing his chosen parents.  

 _I'm okay. Confused and hurt, to be honest. But that's why we're here, isn't it?,_ he answered honestly.  

"We are terribly sorry that this was how you found out, honey.", Ellen stated, her eyes filled with worry. "We were talking about how to tell you without hurting you and we ended up doing just that. We're sorry, Dean. All three of us."  

"All three of your parents", Bobby added.  

Dean let out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding, felt tears in the corner of his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, Cas' hand on his shoulder squeezing softly. Instinctively, he retreated into his usual demeanour, his head bowed, shoulders hunched.  

Carefully, with wide eyes glancing at his hands, barely supressing his tears, eyebrows furrowed, he signed:  _You won't send me_ _away?_   

"Dean, we wouldn't ever do that to you!", Ellen exclaimed shocked while Cas softly pulled Dean to his side.   

Gratefully accepting the chance to hide, the chance to be close to Cas, the chance to use the comfort he got from him, Dean buried his hand into the other's shoulder. He was crying quietly, Cas soothing him as well as he could. But these tears- these tears were none of sadness or despair.   

Dean was relieved.  

For most of his life, he had heard that he was a burden, useless, that nobody wanted him. Bobby and Ellen had a perfect chance to get rid of him now, to live an easy life without him worrying them. To be free of him.

But they didn't.  

They wanted him to stay.  

The realisation hit Dean, as he rasped into Cas' shoulder: " I was so afraid. I don't want to leave you. I know I'm selfish, egoistic to put this burden on you, but I don't want to leave. Please let me stay, don't send me away."  

More hands joined Cas' on Dean's back, another one on his knee. When he glanced up, he saw Bobby kneeling in front of him and Ellen sitting behind him on the couch, both looking at him with sad eyes.  

He had made them sad again.  

Dean turned back to hide in Cas, but the other didn't let him.  

"Dean, your parents have something to say to you. It would only be fair to listen to them.", he softly told him, wiping tears from Dean's cheeks. "You can take your time if you need to, but hiding won't make it go away."  

Dean looked up at him with wide eyes. How could this guy always say exactly what he needed to hear, damn it? He sighed, and searched Bobby and Ellen, his body still hunched together.  

"Honey", Ellen started, her voice shaking slightly. "I don't know what we can do to make you realise that we love you. You are our son. The real way. We know that your experiences with your biological family haven't been good so far, but we are not like John. We don't want you to be with us to gain something from you. We want you here because we love you, simple like that. And honey, there is no way this could ever change. You will always be our son."  

Bobby nodded affirmatively: "Family doesn't end in blood, you know that, but it doesn't start there either. John was not your family. We are."  

Tears welled up in Dean's eyes again. This was all just too much right now.  

 _I need some time,_ he signed.  _Would that be okay?_   

"Of course, son. Do whatever helps you. But if you start having those self-depreciating thoughts again, I want you to come and tell us, so we have a chance to list why we're so damn proud of you. Won't let you lose yourself in this derogatory bullshit, again.", Bobby grunted, his view soft.  

Ellen hesitated, then she said: "There is just one more thing. Crowley's office called us. They said that you left yesterday and that you apparently made it clear you wouldn't come back."  

Although her voice didn't sound angry, Dean couldn't stop himself from leaning into Cas again, hiding in him. He knew he shouldn't, but right now he just couldn't-  

"It's okay, honey. It's your choice, and we trust you to make the right one. Either way, we'd like you to explain it, maybe tomorrow? Don't worry, we have time, but we'd like to find a new person to help you, and we can't do it if we don't know what Crowley did wrong. Okay?", she interrupted his thoughts.   

There was so much more Dean wanted to say, but for now, he was too exhausted. Didn't he just wake up a few hours ago? He nodded into Cas shoulder, but otherwise stayed quiet.   

"Would you like to lay down for a bit, Dean?", Cas asked, his hand still stroking the boy's back.   

Dean pulled back, gratefully glancing up at Cas, nodding.   

"Then do so. You deserve some rest. Just call me if you need anything, okay?"  

 _Thank you,_ Dean signed, and without hesitation he wrapped his arms around the older man. "Thank you", he whispered again.  

"Always", Cas squeezed him softly, then Dean pulled back and turned around, hugging first Ellen, then Bobby, too.   

"Take all the time you need, Dean. You know that we can talk about everything.", Bobby said.  

"Now go and rest for a bit. We'll wake you for lunch.", Ellen added.  

He glanced one more time around the little group of people assembled in the small living room. Gave each of them a small smile. Then he went to the stairs.   

Hesitating, Dean turned around one last time, searching Cas' view.   

 _Is it still okay for you...?,_ he started, but Cas already nodded before could finish. He would tell them. 

 _Thank you,_ Dean signed, and left the little group.  

Upstairs, in his room, he ruffled through his bag until he found his art utensils, turned on the music and off his mind. And, not for the first time, he dreamed of how his life would have been had he grown up as Dean Campbell instead of Dean Winchester.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update!  
> I had my last exam for this term yesterday and still have laptop trouble, so how often I update depends on how often I can borrow someone's laptop. Yay.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. As always, comments and tips are highly appreciated! :)


	13. I ache for love, I ache for us

Silence embraced them as soon as Dean had left.   

Bobby sat on the couch, holding his wife.   

Ellen leaned against him, trying to pull herself together.   

Cas looked at the stairs, where Dean had been standing just a few seconds ago, caught in his thoughts.  

He had thought that Dean was getting better. He had thought that after last night, Dean would have understood how much he meant to the people around him. He had hoped so, damn it.  

It hurt Cas to see the boy like this. It hurt him even more when he imagined what had happened, what these men must have said to Dean, done to Dean, to influence him like this. It made him feel sick.  

He sighed and turned to the Singers, Bobby still comforting his wife, Ellen looking at him.  

"How was he really yesterday?", she asked, her voice hoarse.  

Cas hesitated, unsure how far he could go: "El..."  

"Tell me.", she demanded, her eyes pained.  

"He was... Ellen, I haven't seen anyone like this before. He was so numb, didn't react to anything I said or did. He ran the whole way to my house, without shoes or a jacket, and he didn't even seem to notice!"  

"How did you get him to snap out of it? Normally, when he becomes numb and tries to shut the world off, we can't do anything to help him.", Bobby asked, his brows furrowed.  

"Honestly? I couldn't either. I got him on the couch and under blankets to warm up and went to the kitchen to get him something warm to drink. I just didn't know what else to do. But when I came back, he was gone."  

"Gone?", Ellen chimed in, her eyes wide in worry. 

"The living room was empty. I was so panicked, I thought he would have left. He didn't, of course, and yet... I shouldn't have left him alone.", Cas sighed. He still felt guilty because of that, guilty because he had denied Dean the help the boy had searched from him.  

"Where was he?"  

"You won't like it", Cas warned Ellen. He already imagined what she would say if he told her that Dean had been in his bed, even worse, that they were practically cuddling all night long. He didn't feel bad about it, which he knew was all kinds of wrong, but... It had helped Dean. Could it really be so bad, then?  

"He went into your bed", Bobby grunted, his gaze way softer than Cas had estimated.  

"How did you know- ", he began, but Bobby interrupted him.  

"When we left Dean alone for an evening for the first time, he has done the same. We came home to find him in our bed."  

"We think it's some sort of comfort to him. Maybe the smell or the personalised rooms? His therapist, Crowley, said we shouldn't allow him to do it, that is was too child-like, made him too dependent, but it wasn't like there was any harm in it. Could you imagine coming home, finding your son in your bed because he missed you, because he needed you, because he searched for you, and then to just kick him out? Dean stopped doing it by himself, once he had realised that he was okay on his own for a few hours, that we were coming back.", Ellen added.  

"He hasn't done it in over half a year, though.", Bobby stated with a sigh.  

"Well, at least I understand that reaction now. I'm really sorry for leaving him alone, though, I thought he was okay- "  

"Cas, it's fine. It's not your fault.", Ellen ensured him. "He's okay now, and that's all thanks to you. Don't blame yourself for this."  

"So, Dean slept in your bed and was just fine this morning? This was all it took?", Bobby interjected. "This has never worked for us before."  

Cas shook his head: "No, it wasn't what helped. He had a nightmare. A nightmare that horrific, it made him scream in his sleep. I woke up and tried to soothe him. It was really, really bad."  

"They most often are", Ellen sighed.  

"He has these often?", Cas asked shocked. What he has seen yesterday evening was bad enough, the idea that Dean might experience these cruel nightmares more than once made him feel nauseous.   

"Too often. And it's always that awful. It seems like he forgets everything he has learned over the last year. He is like he was in the beginning, so afraid and insecure. We tell him again and again that we love him, but you have just seen yourself how long this soothes him... Were you able to help him yesterday?"  

"He didn't want to be alone, so I stayed. He was practically clinging to me, didn't let me go. I know it's wrong to sleep next to a teenager, especially in a situation like Dean's, but he-"  

"It's okay, boy.", Bobby interrupted his rambling. "We have already noticed how much he searched you. If it helps him and you both are fine with it, there is no reason for us to judge you as something you are not. We know you wouldn't exploit his vulnerability."  

"As long as you respect the boarders!", Ellen added with a fierce, warning look.  

Cas was perplex for a second, could only nod. He hadn't expected this.  

"So, you stayed? And it helped him?"  

He gulped. Of course, he had known that this would come, that he was going to tell Ellen and Bobby. Dean had asked him to do so and he was glad he could help him. Yet, what he was about to say... it would hurt them. Cas tried to soften his words.  

"Something else has happened. Dean... Dean has told me what has happened to him. He wants me to tell you, but... Your family had to go through a lot in the last twenty-four hours, and I won't tell you unless you're sure you want to know."  

The Singers stared at him, wide-eyed, shock.  

"He did what?"  

Cas sighed, avoided eye contact: "It's not a nice story to tell. Are you- "  

"Dean hasn't told us anything specific about his past in the whole year he has been with us. And now he just opened up to? After two months?", Ellen exclaimed.  

"Ellen, calm down.", Bobby tried to soothe her. "We've talked about this. Dean trusts Cas and so do we. We know he won't hurt our boy. Listen to what he has to say before you start yelling. Okay?"  

"But... Did we do something wrong? I know that Cas is great with Dean, but doesn't he trust us? Doesn't he want us to know? Why would he-"  

"Ellen", Cas interrupted her. "He didn't tell you because he loves you."  

"Explain", Bobby demanded, his expression incredulous.  

"Dean's biggest problem is that he thinks he isn't worth it. When he seems to forget that you love him, it isn't because he doesn't believe you. It's because he doesn't believe in himself. Dean doesn't want to lose you, so he does what he was taught to do- he suffers in silence."  

"But now he told you and asked you to tell us?"  

"He said that you deserve to know, that he wants you to know, but he just couldn't tell you. He even tried to write it to you in letters, but he said it wouldn't be fair to burden you like this. Listen, normally, I wouldn't talk for Dean like this, but you should have seen him this morning. He's suffering because he wants you to know but can't tell you. I'd like to help him, but... I also want to help you. I know his past will hurt you, so if you want more time, if you-"  

"Tell us.", Ellen interrupted. "We won't like it anymore at another day."  

Cas sighed. He was doing this for Dean.  

"We know Mary's side of the story. Dean doesn't remember the time before John kidnapped him, for him, it starts with the isolation..."  

  

And Castiel told them what he had heard from Dean the evening before.  

And while he tried to soften his words, he saw every flinch Ellen and Bobby shuddered under.  

And he kept talking until he was finished, hugging them both and leaving them to cope with the knowledge he had just burdened them with, the knowledge he wished he could have saved them from, just as he wished he could have saved the boy. 

 

  

Cas had just left the Singer's home as he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his coat.   

"Hello?", he answered without checking the caller ID.  

"Cassie? Oh thank god, are you okay?", Gabriel's voice echoed through the phone. The older brother sounded exhausted.  

"Gabe, I'm okay, I'm on my way home now. How's Sam? Did you stay at Mary's for the night?"  

"Yeah, but Sam... Sam's not good. He needs some time. Yesterday was really hard for him."  

"And you? Are you okay?"  

"Sure baby bro. Always.", Gabe said overly cheerily, and Cas heard the falseness of his statement through the phone.  

"I'm home in ten minutes. Don't do anything stupid.", he said, hung up and quickly made his way to the car.  

 

* * *

 

When Cas reached his little home, Gabe was already waiting for him on the front porch. He looked terrible. His hair seemed lanky, chaotic. Dark circles underlined his eyes. He was paler than usual.  

Cas made his way up the stairs and without any further words wrapped his brother in a hug.  

"I'm glad you're back", Gabe confessed quietly, suddenly seeming very, very young.  

"Of course, Gabe", Cas assured him and pulled back. "Come on, let's get inside. Then you can tell me what has happened yesterday."  

"Sam's asleep", Gabe told him while they shrugged off their jackets and kicked off their shoes. 

"That's probably good for him, isn't it?"  

"He has barely slept last night", Gabe sighed, falling back on the couch. From the looks of it, neither did he. 

Cas settled next to him: "How was it yesterday? How has Mary told you?"  

Gabe hesitated, then he stood back up, went to the little bar hidden in the cabinet under the book shelves and, despite it being just after noon, poured himself some whiskey, which he instantly downed. A questioning glance at Cas made him grab a second glass, refill both of them and go back to his brother, handing him one of the tumblers.  

"We were early, you know that we left quite soon because we still wanted to get some wine and flowers for Mary. When we reached her house, she wasn't there. We let ourselves in- Sam has a key- and waited for her. And we waited. After half an hour and dozens of unanswered calls later, she finally arrived, and dude, she was in a bad shape. She practically would have collapsed if Sam hadn't caught her."  

"Did she drive there herself?"  

"Nah, Bobby did.", Gabe calmed Cas down. "I don't think she would have been able to drive. It was really bad, Cas."  

Cas gave Gabe an understanding look and nibbled on his whiskey. While he normally would have been glad if Gabe didn't use his obnoxious nickname for him, today it only made him worry even more. He only now started to realise that it wasn't just Dean and the Singers who suffered under the revelation of Dean's identity. It must have been just as bad for Mary and Sam, even for Gabe. The people around Dean were way too invested with the boy, admired him way too much to be unfazed by the latest developments in his life. 

"She started talking after a few glasses of wine", Gabe went on. "Said that she found Dean. We asked her what she meant. Said that  _Dean_ was De."  

He gulped down the rest of his whiskey, and went back to the small bar. Gabe hesitated, then he leaned his elbows on the counter, hid his face in his hands. His shoulders were slummed, as he let out a sigh.  

"She has told us that she already thought so at the bakery, but wanted to make sure before creating a possibly wrong hope in Sam. That's why she was at Ellen and Bobby's house. She has told them, and Dean has been home earlier than expected. He has overheard them and ran away and they spent the next twenty minutes driving through the area and on the phone, frantically calling people who might have seen him. It wasn't until you called them that she came home.", Gabe said, still with his back to Cas.  

"How is she now? Has she had a chance to progress what has happened?"  

"Give her some more time. She has just met her son for the first time in over a decade. And she might not know what has happened to him in the past, but both times she has seen him he had a panic attack. She blames herself for the things she doesn't even know and the only people that could help her are her sons, who are in a very similar state of mind right now."  

"That's awful", Cas sighed.   

"Sure is. It's why I need to ask something from you.", Gabe said, turning back to Cas, his eyes serious.   

"What is it?", the younger brother answered without hesitation, while Gabe sat back down next to him on the couch.   

For the first time that day, a small smile graced Gabe's lips: "Thanks, Cassie. I need you to call Mary. I know that's a lot to ask, but you are Dean's best friend, you know him best next to Bobby and Ellen. Please, just quickly call her and tell her that he's alright. That he was panicked yesterday but is okay now. And tell her that he ran away because he was overwhelmed, not because he didn't want to meet her, not because he blamed her for anything he has endured. Tell her that he didn't reject her yesterday. "  

"That's so typical Campbell", Cas huffed. "Can you believe it? Dean was afraid Mary might not want him because he fled yesterday, Mary is afraid Dean might not want her because he fled yesterday... But, sure. I'll call her." 

"Thanks, Cassie. I really owe you one.", Gabe answered.  

"No, you don't. It's no problem for me, especially if it helps Dean's family."  

"How is Dean?"  

"I don't know. He's definitely getting better, but Gabe, yesterday, he... he frightened me. He was so numb and didn't react to anything. The only move he made by himself was getting into my bed when I left him alone to call Ellen."  

"You were there for him, that's what's important, Cassie."  

"But that's not all", Cas confessed quietly. He still didn't know what to think of his night with Dean, and if there was a person he could tell, a person that would listen, it was Gabe. "He had a nightmare, I woke him up from it, and he... he wanted me to stay. We practically slept cuddling. And I liked it. I liked being so close to him."  

Gabriel gave him an assessing look, his expression otherwise unreadable: "Did he want you to stay or did you offer it?"  

"That's the weird thing, he was clinging to my arm so I wouldn't leave. Remember two months ago, when a simple touch made him have a panic attack? Well, now it seems like he's searching for contact. He hugged me earlier, he was practically nestled against my side, and he looked comfortable. I know it's wrong but I just don't- "  

"Cas, stop overthinking things. Yes, it is unconventional for an adult to cuddle with a teenager, but apparently it's what Dean wants.", Gabe interrupted him.   

Cas could only stare at him: "What? Weren't you the one who has told me that I made Dean dependent on me like this? That I would only hurt us both if I'd allow it? That it was stupid and ignorant?"  

"Yes, I did. But you know what? Fuck it."  

Cas blinked.  

"Cassie, whatever friendship or relation or whatever you and Dean share, it's good for you. Dean has a friend, someone who can help him better than anyone else, someone he can flee to if he needs to, someone he apparently trusts. And you- Cassie, you're way more enthusiastic since you met him,, way more  _human_. It might be unconventional, but... who even gives a shit?"  

A soft smile spread on Cas' lips, echoed by Gabe: "Thanks, big brother."  

"Always, Cassie. We have to help each other so we can help our Campbells, after all."  

"Talking about, how is Sam?"  

The smile vanished from Gabe's face, his eyes covered by sadness and worry: "I helped him as far as I could, but he needs time, too. To be honest, I don't really want to leave him alone for that long, do you mind...?"  

"Go and support your husband, Gabe.", Cas dismissed him softly.  

They shared a quick smile, dolour and thankfulness marking their eyes in equal parts, before Gabe got up and left the room.  

  

Cas stayed back, picked up the phone and entered Mary's number.  

  

Dean's mother answered after a few rings.  

She sounded tired, nothing compared to her usual, genuine behaviour.  

"Yes?"  

"Hello, Mary. It's Castiel."  

"Hey, Cas.", she said, huffing a little breath, a small smile.  

"How are you?"  

"Overwhelmed. Like the saddest and the happiest person at the same time. I had already given up hope and now... It all seems so surreal. I can't really name it."   

"It's understandable, your family had to go through a lot in the last days. Gabriel looks after Sam, do you have someone to help you?"  

"Thanks, Cas, that's very sweet from you, but I'm okay. I don't need anyone."  

"Are you sure? I could come over, or you could come here if you wanted to. I wanted to talk to you either way, why not do it in person? I'm sure Sam would appreciate it, and we could all have lunch together.", Cas proposed.  

Silence followed, filled the air around him. When he got an answer, it was whispered.  

"Thanks, Cas. I'll come over."  

Relief made him smile, as he asked carefully: "Do you want me to drive you?"  

"I'm okay with my own car, don't worry. I'll be over in an hour."  

And the line went dead.  

  

* * *

 

Cas saw Sam for the first time that day while he stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables. It was something he always did when he wanted to calm himself, the monotony of preparing the food easing his mind.  

He had just started slicing a carrot when a cough behind him made Cas turn.   

Sam looked even worse than Gabe, his eyes hollow, hair ruffled from sleep, half draped over his face.  

"How are you, Sam?", Cas asked carefully.  

"Ask me again in a few days", Sam retorted and shuffled to the coffee machine.  

Castiel turned back to cutting the vegetables. "Your mother will come over later. I invited her over, I don't think she should be alone right now. Is that okay with you?"  

Sam gave him a small smile: "Sure, Cas. Thanks for looking after her. And for looking after Dean, too, I guess."  

"It's a pleasure. He's a good person."  

"He is? You know, I've met him several times, but I actually have no idea who he is. He always seemed to withdraw when things got too personal, so I never... I don't know him. Is he a good person?", Sam asked, his attention now, that he had coffee poured in his favourite mug, undivided on Cas. He help up the mug, inhaled the strong steam, instantly relaxing.  

"Dean did the same this morning. Smelling the coffee like that."  

Sam's head snapped up, eyes wide at Cas: "He did?"  

"Yes. He even has the same bitch face you give Gabe when he makes an innuendo.", Cas answered with a smile.  

"It's so weird", Sam sighed. "I always mourned because of De. I imagined him so often, imagined meeting him on the street by coincidence one day, imagined us talking, acting like brothers. And I always allowed myself to dream like this because I never thought there was any chance John hadn't... This here is so different. Dean is so different. I didn't recognise him; I don't even know how to approach him now."  

"Sam, that's natural. Don't blame yourself for dreaming, that would be stupid. And don't blame yourself for feeling overwhelmed by this revelation, either. Do you really think Dean knows what to do? Do you think he knows how to act in this situation? Do you think your mother feels any better? All three of you need some time now, to understand what this means, to get along with it before you get along with each other. Don't worry, Sam, whatever happens now is in the future, it's just a question of time until you have your family reunited. Until then, be patient with everyone, including yourself, and Sam- allow yourself to be happy. Your brother is alive, he's recovering and soon, he'll be back in your life."  

Cas barely had time to discard the knife before he was wrapped in a giant moose. He tensed in surprise.  

"You know, this is the part where you hug back", Sam muffled into his shoulder.  

Cas just huffed and awkwardly patted his friend's back, before they both pulled back.  

"Thanks Cas. I tend to forget that you minored in psychology, but somehow you always amaze me when you know exactly what to say. I'm really glad you're part of my family", Sam confessed, his trademarked puppy-eyes trailing sheepishly to the floor.  

"I'm glad, too", Cas smiled.   

The doorbell interrupted their moment, announcing Mary's arrival.  

  

* * *

 

Lunch has been a quiet affair.   

Mary and Sam had both stayed silent for the majority of the time, while Gabe and Cas tried to involve them in some small talk, tried to distract them for at least a short duration.  

Nobody mentioned Dean.  

Afterwards, Gabe and Sam returned to their room. They claimed they needed some time, and nobody could really resent them for it. Cas and Mary stayed behind, doing the dishes.  

"So, you are quite close to my boy, hm?", Mary interrupted the silence after a few moments.  

"Yes. Dean is a good person", Cas answered, unintentionally repeating what he has already told Sam earlier.  

"I'm glad. I was... I still am worried. I don't know a lot about what has happened to him, and I don't have to know right now. He'll tell me when he's ready. But Ellen and Bobby said that he has been with John for a few years at least, and they were always opposites. Where Dean was soft, John was hard. Where Dean was sweet, John was bitter. Where Dean showed positivity, John scolded him with his sick version of reality. I was afraid he might have turned my baby into a second version of himself.", Mary confessed.  

"I didn't know John, so I can't really compare them. But Dean is nothing like the man you just described. He's curious, you should have seen him at the kitchen of the bakery for the first few times, he was so eager to learn, eager to ask questions, to understand what works how. He's passionate, especially when it comes to books, or music, or his car. Have you seen her? A 67 Chevy Impala, Dean is so proud of her. He's intelligent, has helped Bobby repair her. Also, he has learned sign language in less than half a year and he managed to get his GED with barely any education before. You can be proud of both your boys, Mary."  

"He really does sound great", Mary agreed softly. "And you seem to know him really well."  

"Yes, I'm lucky to call myself Dean's friend.", Cas said without looking up from the plates he rinsed.  

"And I'm sure he's lucky to have you, too. You are the one he searched yesterday, after all.", Mary said, her tone slipping slightly .  

Cas looked up at her, searched her expression for a proof of her accusing voice.  

"I just want to help him. If he searches me, if he wants my aid, who am I to deny it? I enjoy every moment spent with Dean, no matter his past or his family. I know that you want to protect him, but I am not a threat to your son, Mary."  

Mary deflated. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just been a long..."  

"I know. Would you like to lay down for a bit? I can finish here.", Cas said, laying his hand on her arm soothingly.  

"Thank you, Cas. You're a treasure to have around.", Mary smiled. "Is it okay if I occupy your couch for a bit? Last night hasn't really been..."  

"Of course. And Mary?", he made her turn around in the archway. "Your family is strong. It will work out."  

She gave him a last, sad smile, before she left for the living room.  

 

* * *

 

It took Castiel four more hours to break.  

He had been trying to busy his mind with stupid tasks, simple tasks to keep his thoughts off everything that had happened that day. He tried to write Balthazar that he needed more time to come to a decision, he tried to do some of the bakery's finances for Gabe, he tried to clean the house, read, watch TV. Nothing helped.  

After having helped the others all day long, he was processing the extension of everything he has heard just now. He realised that everything was about to change, and he understood why Dean was so afraid of it. He comprehended that what Dean had told him of his past had been the soft version. There was so much he still didn't know and it would be even worse than everything he knew so far. 

Castiel couldn't think. He was so damn angry. So damn agitated, so wrathful.   

He wanted nothing more than to find the assholes who hurt Dean like that and-  

And-  

Castiel couldn't breathe the more he thought about it. The more he thought about John and Alastair, the mosters that did that to Dean. The more he thought about what exactly they had done to him. The more he thought about how who of them has tortured Dean, both so cruel in their very own ways.

With Mary asleep, Sam and Gabe coping by themselves, Cas decided to take off. The closeness of his home was just too much in this moment.  

Grabbing his coat, he stormed out, left the house, just followed the street without having a destination in mind.   

He felt like he needed that much freedom right now.  

His walking turned into jogging, his jogging turned into running. Finally, Cas felt okay. Finally, he could let out some of the energy. Finally, he could let go of his inner dam and just move. 

When he got the control of his mind back, Cas stood heavily breathing in front of Lawrence’s small church. Although they were in Kansas, there weren’t many religious people around. The church was unpretentious, modest, even humble. It was built out of a light sandstone, the colourful windows a sharp contrast to the otherwise unvaried design. A spire towered above the flat roof, and Cas knew that there was a bell inside that ringed to announce a sermon. 

He hesitated before stepping inside.

The little church was quiet, empty.   Castiel decided to sit in one of the front rows, his head bowed, his hands clasped together in prayer.  

He hadn't been in a church since the day his family had cast him out. He hadn't felt the urge to return.  But now, as all these thoughts, these horrendous pictures flooded his mind, Castiel once again turned to God.  

Even before he had left the religious community Castiel had grown up in, his faith had never really been stable. He had never quite understood the bible, its message. It confused him that the book claimed as much hate as it demanded love...  

For now, he decided to focus on the love.  

  

_I know I haven't been here in a long time. To be honest, I don't even know why I am here now._   

_Certainly not for me, so if there is anyone out there listening, and you can't forgive me for my absence, for my faithlessness, I still beg you to listen._   

_Please, help Dean._   

_He deserves so much better, so much help, and I... I just don't know what I can do anymore. With every step I think he takes forwards he only ends up suffering more. I know that a process of recovery is painful, stressful. I know that it becomes worse before he can get better. I know that_ _processing_ _what has happened to him is one of the hardest tasks he ever had, he will ever have._   

_I only want him to become better. To live the life he's worthy of._   

_Please, I beg you, help him._   

  

Castiel left the church feeling slightly better than before.  

He could only hope that there was some force listening to him, taking him seriously, helping Dean.   

Some force that could replace the boy’s senseless suffering with some peace. 

Some force that was stronger than himself, that could do better. 

Castiel just didn’t know what he could do otherwise.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter!  
> I decided to have Cas process what has happened according to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' model describing the five stages of grief: He ignores it by rather helping others than dealing with it, when confronted becomes angry, bargains in the church and then leaves depressed. The fifth stage, acceptance, will have to wait until he meets Dean again. That's not really important but maybe some of you care :)
> 
> Comments, kudos and tips are highly appreciated!  
> Seriously, those comments often make my days- shoutout to those who leave them and tell me what you think, you guys rock!
> 
> Also, there is one last thing I wanted to say- holy moly 150 kudos! Awesome! Thank you so much!!!
> 
> 28/02/17: I am terribly sorry that i haven't uploaded anything new yet! Chapter 14 is nearly finished, but I'm really sick right now and it will take me a few more days to recover. I didn't abandon this or something like that, just need a little more time. Sorry, and thanks for your patience!


	14. I've got new faith in me

_It_ _was_ _one of those days._  

 _One of those_ _days_ _Dean_ _spent in hunger, pain and agony._  

 _One of those days on which he_ _desperately_ _tried to busy his mind with the memory_ _of_ _love,_ _the memory of_ _the smell of apple pie, the memory_ _of_ _the soft melody of laughter_ _, relicts of happy times that were_ _echoing in his head_ _._  

 _One of those day on which he_ _hummed 'Hey Jude', over and over and over again._  

 _He didn't even care that he was going to be punished for it once_ _his master_ _would return._ _No, h_ _e was looking forward to it._  

 _Dean was so broken, so hopeless, that he was looking forward to dying._  

 

 _W_ _hen he, after days of being alone and neglected, heard the door to the house open and close, when he heard the footsteps over him, he_ _didn'_ _t_ _ev_ _en_ _have_ _the energy to hum anymore. He just hoped_ _his maste_ _r would make it quick._  

 _Numbly, he_ _realised that he_ _heard more than one pair of feet. He was_ _too tired to understand what it meant._  

 _Out of reflex- no, out of training, he stilled when the door to the basement was opened._  

 _"Hello? Anybody down there?"_  

 _Dean_ _tensed- he heard a voice, dark and gruff with a heavy accent, a voice he that was strangely familiar but..._  

 _There was_ _a stranger down here, he_ _realised. Someone other than his master, a_ _nd h_ _e hasn't ever been told what to do should a stranger come here. Out of precaution, he_ _decided to act as he would act should it be_ _his master_ _\- he_ _stayed silent, like an obedient little pet should do._  

 _Fear radiated in him._  

 _"God, I hope the basement isn't as bad as the last one we had to investigate_ _", a second voice_ _chimed in._  

 _Dean_ _tensed even more, tried to hide behind the blanket half draped over his restraints,_ _tried to make himself as small as the chains allowed him to_ _. His hands had_ _been bound_ _to a cage-like structure_ _over his head, numb from missing movement, the missing blood circulation of the last days. His feet have been chained to the floor, so he was_ _forced to stay in a kneeling position. It was probably good that he would die here, Dean_ _thought. He wasn't_ _sure whether his limbs would even work anymore._  

 _"Don't worry, brother, I'll go before you", the first_ _man said- chuckling?_ _"Protect you from the big, bad spiders."_  

 _"Shut up, Benny."_  

 _Why did Dean know that name? His head was buzzing, he just_ _couldn't connect it_ _, couldn't catch a clear thought._  

 _A ray of electric light shone through the basement_ _-shone through the fabric thrown over the cage_ _Dean was caught in-_ _a flashlight, making him blind for a moment_ _. He hadn't seen light for three days_ _. A whimper escaped him_ _, burned in his dry throat._  

 _"Did you hear that?", a_ _ccent-guy asked suddenly. Dean stilled_ _immediately_ _._  

 _"No, what do you mean? Do spiders make noises now?"_  

 _"Come on, let's be safe and check. I promise to protect you from the spiders."_  

 _"Ha-ha. You are so funny, Lafitte."_  

 _The first man chuckled ag_ _ain, their voices be_ _came_ _louder and louder, closer and closer as they approached him. Dean wanted nothing more than to flee. Tears began streaming down his dry cheeks- if he could only move!_  

 _"Come on_ _. Let's just make sure the bastard isn't here."_  

 _"There are recordings with a timestamp of him being in Mexico just a few hours ago, I don't even know why the Captain-", the second voice started complaining._  

 _"We just have to be sure. Stop grumbling_ _, start looking around. The sooner we're out of here the sooner you're safe from the spiders._ _"_  

 _Silence_ _followed_ _. Then:_ _"God, look at all these instruments._ _I'm sure those are the ones that were stolen from the hospital he worked at."_  

 _Dean could hear metal being moved. He closed his eyes, tried to keep his breathing regulated. He would not let the sound trigger him, not again, not now._  

 _"But why would he want them? I mean I know that he's crazy but... all this stuff. It's not like he could perform a surgery down here_ _", accent-_ _guy mused._  

 _If he could only place that voice-_  

 _The light from the flashlights shifted again, as the footsteps came closer to Dean. He cowered even more, forced himself to stay quiet, stiff._  

 _"There is blood on some of these things."_  

 _"Shit. Brother, that's..."_  

 _"I just_ _hope we won't stumble over a body down here."_  

 _"That's_ _... just_ _sick._ _That bastard has to pay for what he's done._ _I_ _pra_ _y_ _we'll find Alastair_ _before-_ _"_  

 _This time, Dean couldn't stop the broken sob from tearing out of him. They shouldn't say his master's name, they weren't allowed to do that, it was disrespectful, he would be punished-_  

 _The footsteps became even louder, and suddenly, the ray of light was focused directly on his face._  

 _Dean closed his eyes and waited for death. After years under his master's control, he just wanted it to stop._  

 _"Fuck."_  

 _"Call an ambulance, now!"_  

 _One pair of feet loudly moved away. Why were they moving away?_  

 _Dean carefully opened his eyes- and looked directly into the face of a broad-shouldered, gruff man. He instantly looked to the floor, avoided eye contact as he had been taught to do, tried to make himself even smaller. The other was still just looking at him._ _Dean was confused, so confused. He had already seen that man, where had he-_  

 _When he started talking,_ _the man's_ _accent-_ _heavy voice was way softer than it had been before: "Hey, you_ _. My name is Benny Lafitte, I'm from the police. I'd like to untie_ _your_ _arms, is that okay for you?"_  

 _This was not what was supposed to happen. Dean was overwhelmed, could only whimper._ _Why was he even_ _still alive?_ _Didn't he deserve some peace?_  

 _He felt a touch on his hands, flinched back, but the man- Benny- kept going, not without making soothing noises. "It will be alright, okay? We just have to get you out of here. Give me a second to..."_  

 _Suddenly, the ropes holding his arms up, holding him straight were gone. Dean sacked together, before the man_ _could hold him._ _He felt the chains from his ankles being removed. He felt hands on his sides. He felt the floor disappearing._  

 _Or maybe he was lifted up? It kind of felt like was carried? Dean drifted away as the pain intensified even more from the movement_ _, paralysed him._  

 _He realised that he was brought up the stairs, tensing because he knew he wasn't allowed up here._  

 _But his master wasn't here, was he?_  

 _Dean was with Benny now- wait. He had once known a Benny. Back then. When he had still been with John._  

 _The world started to spin as the man took one step after another, Dean safely tucked into his arms. S_ _tep_ _for st_ _ep_ _, he realised that this- this might be a good thing._  

 _Once they reached the_ _ground_ _level of the house Dean has been in for what he guessed must have been around two years, once they passed the rooms Dean had never before entered, the panic spread back in him. He wanted to be out of there, he wanted out, now._  

 _Benny seemed to understand him_ _, as he didn't stop, made his way out of the house as quickly as he could._  

 _And for the first time in two years, Dean saw the sunlight. He saw the sky. He saw trees, that surrounded the house, hell_ _,_ _he saw his prison for the first time from the outside._  

 _It was the exact moment_ _the realisation_ _hit him._  

 _He was outside._  

 _Dean saw the police cars, he heard the siren of an ambulance coming closer, he felt_ _Benny's_ _reassuring grip- and he knew it._  

 _He was free._  

 

* * *

 

From all the dreams Dean had, from all his flashbacks, this was the one that affected him the most. 

Not necessarily in a negative way, he wasn't crying because of this dream, it didn't trigger a panic attack or made him wake Ellen and Bobby- it was just a dream that moved him a lot. 

He remembered the moment Benny recognised him, asked him whether he was Dean, _the_ Dean he had taken in a few years ago. He remembered nodding, but not talking. Talking had been forbidden at Alastair's. He remembered passing out when the paramedics had touched him, then waking up in the same hospital John had brought him to, back then when he had a broken rip. It was also the hospital Alastair had worked in. 

Only Benny could help him, could ease his panic, could lessen the attacks he suffered under.  

Two weeks later, Dean was able to do his first steps.  

The day after that, he met the Singers. 

A month after Benny had freed him, he moved in with them. 

And now, nearly a year and a half later... 

Now, Dean had a family, he had friends. He has found a passion to keep him busy, hell, he even had a job.  

Dean had a home, a place where he finally felt like he had arrived somewhere he wanted to stay. A place where he felt safe. A place where he felt loved. 

And for no one, not even his own mother and his own brother, was he ready to give that up.  

Yes, he wanted to meet them, he really wanted to.  

But he wouldn't allow them to mess up the home he had just found. 

 

* * *

 

The following afternoon, Dean scurried as Mary watched him with careful interest. 

They were sitting in the Singer's living room, and although Dean didn't admit it, he was glad that they did this meeting in these familiar surroundings.  

His parents were flanking his sides on the couch, while Mary sat in front of them.  

Mother and son stared at each other. 

Mary was a beautiful woman. She had blonde hair, like Dean's when he had been younger, that framed her face in big waves. Her eyes were like his too, bright green, intent. Whole worlds could be described by the expression in them, strong and so soft, desperate and yet full of hope, filled with careful love.  

She intimidated Dean. He shuffled deeper into the couch. 

 

A few days have passed since Dean had involuntarily overheard the talk between the three of his parents. A few days full of drawing, isolating himself, coping. A few days in which he has not left his room except for the necessities. 

In the end, it took him a lot of time to muster up the courage to confront Ellen and Bobby. They had been patient, waited for him, and when he finally came downstairs one day, they greeted him with warm hugs. 

They weren't disgusted. 

They didn't cast him out.  

They didn't tell him how worthless he was. 

No, they only hugged him, thanked him for his confidence in them, and asked him whether he wanted syrup with his pancakes.  

And Dean could only nod. 

  

 

"I'm really glad that you wanted us to meet", Mary interrupted his thoughts with a soft voice.  

Dean looked up, gave her an assessing gaze. She seemed nice enough, yet he couldn't help but mistrust her. For the first time in his life, Dean has found a home. He had a family, friends, a meaning. He had been happy. 

This here could be both, a chance and a curse. And it scared Dean. He didn't want to lose what had taken him so long to build, what he still wasn't sure he deserved 

It had been Ellen's idea, to invite Mary over. Dean had accepted, as long as his parents were there with him. He still didn't know whether it had been a good idea. 

"You look so different from Sam", she mused absently, her eyebrows knitted in thoughts. 

"Mary", Ellen warned quietly, softly squeezing Dean's hand to comfort him. 

Mary's eyes became wide as she realised that she has just compared her sons, two boys that could not have had a more different environment growing up. She didn't know what had happened to Dean, but his way of acting around her should be proof enough that this was not an easy topic for him.  

"Oh god, I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it! I just...", she hesitated. "I always pictured finding you, finding my boy. I pictured you, and what you might look like. I had thousand versions of you in my head. Thousand little Deans. None of them could do you justice." 

Dean couldn't help it, he smiled softly, his gaze down at his lap. The thought that someone had missed him, that someone had _wanted_ him, amazed him. After all, he grew up being told that he was worthless, a burden, that no one could ever love him. Knowing that not just his parents loved him unconditionally, but his mother, who didn't even know him, had missed him, hadn't forgotten him in the last decade- it overwhelmed him.  

He lifted his hands, paused in hesitation, then he signed: _I'm sorry for fleeing back then. I didn't want to hurt you, it was just a bit too much for me in that moment._  

Bobby translated, but Mary shook her head: "I don't blame you, Dean. What has happened wasn't how we planned to tell you, quite the contrast as you can probably guess. I'm just glad you're better now. I can't imagine the shock this must have been for you." 

Dean nodded gratefully. So far so good, Mary seemed... alright. Nice.  

He gulped, then he continued signing: _What do you want us to do now_ _?_  

Mary paused before she answered, just looking at her son.

"I would like to get to know you, if that's alright with you? From what I've heard and seen so far, people seem to adore you", she winked. 

Dean tensed. Even after the time he had spent back in civilisation, he was still unsure how to deal with compliments. Insecurity spread in him and he shuffled back into the couch, bowed his head, was hiding. 

Ellen, always the empathic one, laid an arm around his shoulder and pulled him to her. She chuckled softly: "Yes, Dean might not see it, but he's a light in our life." 

Dean rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. Ellen knew his aversion to cheesy metaphors, and he was grateful for her attempt to cheer him up, to make him relax. 

Fortunately, Mary wasn't affronted by Dean's retreat. She chuckled gently: "He already was back then. It was always my favourite things to see Sam and Dean play with each other. Sam has already been tall as a teenager, and him having a little Dean in his arms, pulling at his hair, was one of the most ridiculous things. He was always so patient, and you practically bathed in the attention he focused on you. You were just a toddler, just a child, but you totally had him under you thumb." 

The image made Dean chuckle quietly. He just wished he remembered more of his time with Mary and Sam. More than he fragments he now associated with Alastair more than with his family. 

 _I'm sorry I don't really remember you_ _or Sam_ _,_ he signed hesitantly. 

"Don't worry, Dean, nobody blames you", Mary ensured him, smiling softly. 

"But you do remember some things?", Bobby chimed in, his wise eyes curious. 

Dean nodded: _Those memories were what saved me when it... when it was really bad. Actually, they weren't even memories, just... sentiments, I guess. Smells like apple pie, noises like laughter, I think I even remember pulling someone's hair._  

Ellen told Mary what Dean had signed, and she smiled sadly: "You have always loved apple pie. Whenever I was in the kitchen, you asked me whether I was baking a pie for you, preferably apple. You were practically addicted to my baking." 

Bobby snorted. They all turned to him, surprised, but he just laughed harder: "And now he works at a bakery and astonishes the patrons there with his very own version of apple pie." 

"Once a passion, always a passion", Ellen smirked. 

"What else do you like to do?", Mary asked curiously. 

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, thinking about a good answer. He might not have talked to Mary for a long time, but a voice inside him told him that since she was his mother, he should make her proud.  

 _I like to draw, but that's more therapeutic_ _than serious. I like music and cars an_ _d... For now, I mostly work at Gabe's. I mean, I'd like to go to college one day, I have my GED, but for now I don't want to give up this... normalcy._  

He shrugged. Talking about himself has never been his forte. 

"That's great, Dean", Mary praised him, making him gleam. "Do you already know which major you might want to choose?" 

Dean exhaled and shook his head, signing: _There are so many possibilities..._  

Mary nodded in understanding: "I was the same. It didn't make things better that my father always wanted me to join the family business, he had a security agency. I rather wanted to do something with kids, so I became a teacher. It took him a while to cope with that." 

 _Are your parents..._  

"They died before you were born", she answered before Ellen could complete translating Dean's unfinished question. 

 _I'm s_ _orry._  

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Dean. Although I'm sure that they would have loved you. You were named after your grandma after all." 

Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes wide in question. 

"My father was called Samuel, my mother was called Deanna", Mary said with a smirk. 

Dean couldn't stop himself from mirroring her grin. He hadn't known that, and while he wasn't thrilled by the revelation that he was named after a woman, a warm feeling spread in his chest. These stories, memories, anecdotes from when he was a toddler made him feel startling human.  Like he was more than a liability others had to put up with. Like he was one of them. Like, in spite of his past, he was worth just as much as Sam. 

After that, their conversation was rather laid-back, not as tensed anymore.  

Unsurprisingly to everyone but Dean and Mary, they actually got along great. They shared many passions, and by the end of the end of the meeting, when Mary begrudgingly had to leave, they had already planned their next meeting.  

 

* * *

 

Dean waited in the living room while his parents escorted Mary outside.  

He couldn't stop himself from grinning. 

Dean was happy. And he didn't even question it. He didn't care whether he deserved it or whether it was real or whatever. 

Dean Singer was happy, and that was okay.  

 

Ellen and Bobby hadn't even entered the living room when Dean surged forwards and wrapped his arms around both of them. They tensed in surprise, afraid that he might have to search their comfort.  

Dean noticed, and quietly, he murmured: "Thank you." 

His parents relaxed once they realised his motivation. They laughed and hugged him back and held him. When Dean pulled back, their eyes where shimmering. 

"You don't have to thank us, honey. We're really glad you got along that great", Ellen told him, her hand on Dean's cheek. He beamed at her. 

"How does it feel to have an expanded family?", Bobby smirked as he settled back down on the couch. Ellen and Dean followed, but this time, Dean sat in front of them, where Mary had been. He needed to talk to them and he needed them to see his signs. 

Dean hesitated, then, his eyes locked on his parents, he signed: _I was so anxious because of today. I know it's_ _stupid, but I've just accepted this place as my home. I've just realised that it was okay for me to have a home, that I was allowed a home just like everybody else. Mary and Sam kind of disrupted this picture. I feared_ _that they might want to take me away or that you might want me to leave now that there is someone else who could look after me. I'm sorry I had so little trust in you._  

"Don't be stupid, son", Bobby chimed in, his gaze on Dean serious but gentle. "Being afraid isn't a reason to apologise, it's human. There's no way we could resent you for it, because Dean, we love you. You are our son, no matter how many more relatives you'll find. We won't keep you here against your will, but as long as you want to stay here, we want you to do so. You'll be eighteen soon, then it's your decision where you want to live. But whatever you want to do, our home is your home, and nothing and no-one can ever change that." 

 _Have you asked Mary_ _about_ _my birthday_ _,_ Dean asked, the astonishment visible on his face. Until now, they had used the day when he came to the Singers as his birthday- September 18th. It had been pure coincidence that he knew the year in which he had been born, but forgot the date. 

Bobby gulped guiltily, and sent Ellen an apologetic look. She sighed, smirking: "We did, and we wanted to surprise you on the day, but alright. Do you still want us to do that or would you like to know?" 

 _Can you please tell me?_  

"January 24th, a month after Christmas eve", she told him. "You're over half a year older than we thought, Dean." 

Dean stayed silent.

With every new detail he knew about himself, he felt more and more like a real person. Not a toy or a burden, but a human.  

"Are you okay?", Bobby leaned forwards, worry marking his face. 

Dean blinked, snapped out of his reverie, and signed: _Yeah, sorry, just... I learned so much about myself today, it's all a bit much._  

Ellen gave him an understanding smile: "We understand that, and if you want some time for yourself, that's fine- there's just one more thing we'd like to talk to you about."

Instantly tensing, Dean looked at her, his eyes wide. His shock must have been obvious, because Bobby immediately tried to soothe him: 

"Don't worry, son, it's nothing bad. We'd just like to talk about Crowley." 

"You don't have to go to him if you don't want to, we won't force you to do anything. But we'd like to know why it didn't work between you, so we can find someone else, someone better, to talk with you", Ellen added.  

Dean gulped. _I won't have to go to him again?_  

"No, honey. Not if he doesn't help you." 

 _He really doesn't. Whenever I left Crowley's, I felt worse than before. He was too aggressive, put too much pressure on me, I couldn't even... I couldn't even tell him anything, so in the end he was the one talking all the time. And he didn't really say nice things._  

Bobby's brows furrowed: "If it was that bad, why haven't you told us before?" 

 _I thought that I was the problem,_ Dean admitted, his head bowed again. _I thought that it was my fault. But he should help me, shouldn't he? If he couldn't do so, why would I be the one to be blamed for that?_  

"Has he told you that?", Ellen asked, he voice restrained, suddenly cold. "That his incompetence is your fault?" 

Dean didn't dare to look up, he just shrugged.  

His parents were quiet for another moment. 

It was Bobby who broke the silence: "Son, the idea that you go to a therapist was a plan to help you, not to make you suffer even more. If you don't feel comfortable with someone, you are under no obligation whatsoever to stay there. You're right that he is to blame for not being able to help you, and we're proud that you stood up for yourself. But in the future, if something like this happens again, you can tell us. You know that we'll always be there for you." 

"Either way, we'd like you to try another therapist, if that's okay with you. Talking to someone who has an objective view on this situation will help you, we just have to find someone you can confide in", Ellen added. 

Dean nodded. He wasn't really eager to relive the pained sessions with Crowley, but if his parents thought that it would help, he'd try.  

"If you want to, you can do some research yourself. We chose Crowley because he knows ASL, but there are many other ways to communicate, so we shouldn't let that restrict us now. You can search for a few persons, inform yourself, get to know them a bit. We'll do the same, and in a week we make a decision- together. Alright?" 

Dean smiled at Ellen. The idea that he could influence the decision pleased him, and he signed a thank you to her.  

"Well, maybe not next week", Bobby chimed in. At Dean's questioning look, he laughed. "Son, it's only a week and a half until Christmas, we should celebrate instead of doing research. We'll talk about it afterwards." 

"You're just looking for an excuse not to do research, aren't you?", Ellen teased him. 

Bobby laughed and gave his wife a kiss on her cheek: "You know me too well." 

Meanwhile, Dean was caught in his thoughts. He had loved Christmas last year. It had been the first time he remembered celebrating it, and although he still didn't quite understand its religious content, he admired the atmosphere it created- from the festive decorations to the tree in the living room, even the cheesy music. People seemed to be in a better mood, everything was red or green, and the food was just marvellous. It had been the first time he had helped Ellen to bake something, and to this day Christmas cookies were one of his favourite treats.  

All of this was trumped by what Dean had experienced on the evening of the 24th: They had lit up the old chimney in the living room, and Dean had been engulfed in all the luxuries he had been denied nearly all his life. Ellen had made an amazing dinner for them, they had sat together and, embraced by the solemn atmosphere, they had just enjoyed each other's presence. 

It had been the first time Dean had felt somewhat peaceful. 

When he looked up, he saw his parents watching him. He must have spaced out again. 

 _Do you have any plans for Christmas this year?_  

"Honey, _we_ have plans. All of us. It will mostly be what we have done last year, but..." Ellen glanced at Bobby, who nodded reassuringly. "Mary has asked whether she could come by. It's your decision in the end, even if she's just here for half an hour. Christmas means family after all, and now that your family expands, so does your Christmas." 

"Of course, if there's something you'd like to do or someone else you'd like to invite, just do so", Bobby assured.  

 _Can I think about it?_  

"Sure, take your time. Just tell us when you've come to a decision. Would you like some time for yourself, to make up your mind?" 

Dean gave his parents a grateful nod. He really needed some time to process all of the information he had learned today. He stood up, but Ellen's voice stopped him. 

"Dean?" She hesitated. "Either way, we're proud of you. There's a lot of stuff going on right now, we get that, but we also see how strong you are in dealing with it." 

Answering with a weak smile, Dean signed: _Thank you. I... I'm really grateful to have you as my parents._  

And without waiting for a response, Dean fled. He didn't like emotional outbursts like this, nor was he sure he could deal with a lot more today. 

So far, he had been talking with his biological mother for the first time. He had learned about his childhood, about his birthday, had the feared conversation about Crowley,… 

Dean was exhausted. 

But also, and he smiled at the realisation, happy. 

With every step he took, no matter how hard it looked in the beginning, he seemed to gain so much. 

He had people who helped him, people who cared for him. 

While he hadn't known Mary for a long time, he yet liked her. She made him feel human. 

While he was aware how exhausting it must be for Ellen and Bobby to look after him, he couldn't imagine a life without them. They made him feel loved. 

And while he was understood that Cas was just too good for him, he could trust him. Cas made him feel happy, at peace. 

Dean sighed as he fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his room. 

Never had he felt so confident that in the end- in the end, it would be alright. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to update!  
> Once I finally, finally got the right angle for this chapter- and I wrote, edited and posted a whole new verse until this happened- I became sick. I try and update weekly from now on, but I'm terribly inconsistent so yeah.  
> Thank you for being so patient!
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter, as alway comments, tips and kudos are highly appreciated :)


	15. Disregard the mess

The next morning, Dean was ripped from his slumber by the angry buzzing of his phone. He blinked, tried to ignore it, but the annoying device just kept vibrating where he had put it on his nightstand. Groaning, Dean reached for it. 

He had just missed a call from Gabe, which was weird, because Dean didn't do calls. Communicating over the phone with your voice wasn't really a thing for a mostly mute person. 

Squinting, he looked at the many text messages Gabriel had left a few minutes ago. 

Gabe- 06:58AM: Hey, Dean-o, u up for work 2day? 

Gabe- 07:00AM: Not 2 stress, but we're kinda short staffed 

Gabe- 07:02AM: Wakey wakey 

Gabe- 07:02AM: Rise 'n shine 

Gabe- 07:03AM: I give u a free cinnamon roll 

Gabe- 07:04AM: Okay I give you 2  

Gabe- 07:04AM: U r my only hope :( 

Gabe- 07:05AM: If u don't answer soon I'll call ya 

Gabe- 07:05AM: Last chance...

Gabe- 07:06AM:  Alrighty u asked for it 

The dots of the app showed that Gabe was currently writing something new, so Dean quickly answered before the maniac had the opportunity to call him again. 

Sent- 07:08AM: Two cinnamon rolls and I'll be there in half an hour 

The response came immediately. 

Gabe- 07:09AM: U got urself a deal 

Gabe- 07:10AM: Btw, good morning sunshine 

Sent- 07:11AM: Morning, Gabe

 

Sighing, Dean laid back in his bed.

He hadn't been at the bakery in over a week, not since his panic attack. He had missed it. Working there, baking- it had been a fulfilment for him, something that had proven him that he was able to do something right, that he was worth something. It gave him a success over which Dean could define himself. 

The negative memories Dean now connected with the bakery laid heavily on him. He'd have to pull himself together to face it today, but as hard as it seemed now, a chance for new memories was probably the best way to cope with it. 

Yawning, he got up to get some coffee. It was going to be a long day. 

 

* * *

 

When Dean, a short time later, walked along Lawrence's main street, he was engulfed by the decorations that ornamented the buildings. Lights were tangled along the lanterns; star-shaped constructions were hanging over the road; red, white and green tinsel made the shop-windows look like cosy living rooms. Dean was already looking forward to seeing the city at night, when the lights were on- maybe it would even snow, soon!

And yet, none of this was anything compared to how Gabe had decorated the bakery. Once again he had excelled himself- there was a real tree in the bakery, full of glass ornaments, fairy lights, little golden figures, artificial candles. The windows were painted with a white spray colour, making it look like it had snowed already. The staff's usual purple aprons were switched for red ones, framed with white cotton; some of the waiters, that were here early and helping the earliest customers, also wore Santa hats. Even the music had been changed, some smooth jazz ringed from the speakers, completing the comfortable atmosphere. 

Dean couldn't supress the smile that graced his lips when he took in the changes. It was a lot, once again close to cheesiness, but authentic nonetheless. It was just typically _Gabe_.  

Immediately when Dean stepped into the bakery, Jess and Kevin approached him with warm smiles. Dean realised that he hadn't seen them since his panic attack, and while he had been worried how they might react to him, that their opinions of him might have changed, the welcoming expressions they wore calmed him instantly.  

"Hey, Dean, we haven't seen you in a while", Jess beamed, handing him an apron for himself.  "How are you?" 

When he was with his co-workers, Dean always had to be creative in means of communication. He chose to form his fingers in the shape of an O and a K, underlining his answer with a reassuring smile.  

"We're glad; you had us shocked back then. The idiot that attacked you is banned from the bakery now, by the way. Gabriel was so angry", Kevin told him. 

"I haven't seen him like this before", Jess agreed. "But good riddance. That dude was a shitty customer anyway, he just drank his coffee and stared at my ass all day." 

Dean stared at her, aghast, mouthing: _Really?_

"Yeah, Gabe had already threatened to throw him out before", she huffed. Then her expression sobered. "We're just happy you're okay; that's what truly matters." 

Dean could feel his cheeks blushing, quickly glancing to the floor to avoid embarrassing himself even more. 

Kevin chuckled: "Either way, it's great you're here today. Gabe had some kind of emergency meeting and Ben is sick, so Lisa can't come in today either. We'd have to rely on your pre-made stuff to keep the kitchen running, and you know that we'd probably set a fire in the process." 

"That was one time and so not my fault", Jess exclaimed loudly, her grin traitorous. She turned to Dean. "He wrote you a list of what to bake; it's in the kitchen. Tell us if you need any help." 

Thanking them, Dean made his way to the room in the back, started his work. The breakfast rush was going to begin within fifteen minutes, he should really get the oven going.   

Truth be told, he had _really_ missed the bakery's little kitchen, with the shiny devices, the colourful binders in which Gabe collected his recipes, the everlasting smell of sugary goods. It had become a place Dean associated with warmth and peace and the fulfilment he found in baking. It was one of the few things Dean did that he himself counted as a success, and whenever he left the bakery after a day of work, and he knew that he had done something right, it felt good.  

Yes, he had missed being at the bakery. And while he started to organise the ingredients he needed for cinnamon rolls, he realised just how much he actually enjoyed being here, how thankful he was to be here.  

 

* * *

  

It happened after Dean had been working for around an hour or two. The morning rush had decreased, and he was able to follow Gabe's guidelines in a more relaxed manner. He was just cleaning the surface while he waited for some pies to come out of the oven, when someone entered the kitchen through the backdoor, that led to the alley behind the bakery.  

"Hey, babe, you forgot your phone this morn- oh", a well-known voice announced before it broke in shock. 

Dean froze. 

 

He had thought a lot about how he wanted to meet Sam again.  

He had imagined it to be with Ellen, Bobby, maybe even Mary and Cas and Gabe in the room. 

He had imagined it to happen under his terms. When he was ready. Not like this. 

Dean slowly turned, stared at Sam, at his brother, like a deer in the headlights. The giant stared right back. 

 

Being the first one to move after a few hesitant, shocked moments, Dean signed, slowly so Sam had a chance to follow: _Gabe isn't here today._

"Oh", Sam repeated. He shoved the hand with the phone in the pocket of his pants, rubbed his neck with the other hand. "I'm sorry for barging in like this, I thought you... you know. Rested or something." 

Dean stayed quit, chewed on his bottom lip. The floor looked very interesting all of a sudden. 

"Well. Yes. So. How are you?", Sam asked carefully. Immediately afterwards, he groaned in frustration and brushed a hand through his long, shaggy hair. Glancing an apologetic look towards Dean, he explained: "I'm sorry for making this so awkward. I know that things can't be easy for you right now, but... well, I hope you're okay either way." 

Dean gave him a small smile. He'd never get used to how much the people around him cared for him, no matter how well they knew each other. 

_It's okay, I don't really know how to act, either,_ Dean admitted. Then, hesitantly, he glanced to the counter, where a batch of white chocolate-macadamia cookies was just cooling down. They were Sam's favourites, weren't they? At least he had loved them the last time...

Dean went over, shoved a few on a plate and set it near the tall man, like some kind of peace offering. 

Sam's eyes became wide with delight: "Are those what I think they are?" 

Dean nodded, carefully but amused by the child-like joy in the giant's eyes. 

"Oh, you're a saint", Sam exhaled and stepped forwards to take one.

Dean hadn't thought about that, and instinctively took a step back, hunching together.

He hadn't planned to do it, had no control over it, it just happened.  

One look up and Dean saw Sam's pained expression, saw the way the man's joyful look vanished. 

"Sorry", he rasped, his voice suddenly very tense. "I didn't realise. I just...", Sam sighed as he trailed off. "I should probably just go before I make things worse. It was really nice to see you again, I'm glad you're okay with this messed up situation." 

He glanced another apologetic smile towards Dean and went back to the door he came through. 

Dean watched him go, still perplexed, when the realisation hit him.  

He didn't want Sam to leave. He wanted to get to know him, just like he got to know Mary the day before. He wanted to actually meet his big brother.  

"Wait." 

The word was out of his mouth before Dean had even decided what to do, his instincts once again taking over. 

Sam froze, the door handle already in his hand. He looked back at Dean quizzically. 

"I mean", Dean cleared his throat. "I mean, if you want to. If you even have the time. I don't want to keep you from work or Gabe or-" 

He closed his mouth with an audible snap, trying to stop his rambling. Sam was an adult, he could decide for himself whether he was going to stay or not, he should just shut up, Dean thought. 

"Well, would it be okay for you if I stayed for a little while?", Sam asked carefully, not moving away from the door. 

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise", Dean stated kind of dryly with an eye roll.  

When he realised what he had done, how blunt he had been, he turned to Sam wide-eyed to apologise, but the giant just grinned at him, taking a step forwards to where he leaned against the counter. For a while, they stayed like this- Dean continuing his work, Sam watching him quietly. 

It was the older brother who broke the silence: "What are you working on?" 

The attempt of small talk was obvious, but Dean was grateful. Work was a safe topic. He could talk about work. 

"Well, there are some pies in the oven and the dough for the cupcakes still has to prove so I'm stuck with cleaning now", Dean huffed. Doing the dishes was such a dull job. He dreaded it. On an afterthought he added: "Would you like to help me?" 

He saw Sam straightening out of the corner of his eye, saw the tall man carefully, hesitantly taking a step forwards, trying not to scare Dean again: "Sure, no problem. How about you wash and I dry?" 

Dean nodded gratefully. 

They worked in silence, not tense but not really comfortable either since none of them knew how to act around the other. And while their occupation was weirdly familiar, weirdly close to a possible situation they could have found each other in way sooner should faith have been less cruel, Dean realised that he didn't really know the man next to him. He knew that Sam was a lawyer, Gabe's husbands, his brother. He knew that Sam was a nice person, helpful, that he had liked him before all this mess has happened. He knew he wasn't opposed to the idea of having Sam as his brother, of having him as a part of his family. 

It was Sam again, who broke the quiet atmosphere: "I heard you met Mom yesterday. How was it?" 

Dean hesitated, contemplated how much he should say before answering quietly: "I think it was alright. Kind of weird, to be honest. I learned a lot about myself and it's strange to process all that." 

"Really? What did she tell you?", Sam asked, a shy smile on his lips. Apparently, telling the truth had been the right decision, Dean decided as he saw the glow in Sam's eyes at his confidence. 

"For once, facts like my birthday or where I grew up. But also, things I liked to do as a toddler, things I still do today without remembering them from before,", Dean paused, unsure how far he could go. He gulped and looked back down at the soap-soaked dished. "It showed me how I could have grown up." 

Thankfully, Sam didn't react to that other than huffing sympathetically. Instead, he asked: "You really didn't know your own birthday? How did you celebrate, then?" 

"I didn't really, not until Ellen and Bobby made me chose a random date", Dean admitted with a smile at the memory. "But that wouldn't make sense, would it? It wouldn't be a birthday if it was at just any date. So in the end, I chose September 18th- not as my birthday but as a fixed day to celebrate." 

"Why this special day?", Sam asked curiously, his head tilted, as he dried the rolling pin Dean had handed him. 

The younger brother contemplated before he decided to be blunt: "It was the day I moved to Lawrence. The day from which on I hadn't just been alive, but actually lived." 

He shrugged. The time back then had been hard for him, it wasn't a topic he liked talking about. Sam seemed to sense it, because he once again led the conversation away from Dean's past: "And now that you know, do you have anything planned on you eighteenth birthday? It's an important number, after all." 

Dean smiled gratefully: "I think that Ellen wants to organise a little party, but I'm not sure. I'm normally not really one for many people, but... The longer I am in Lawrence, the more family I find. Some by blood, others by circumstance, a few by heart, no matter how cheesy that sounds. With every day that passes, my family grows, my life becomes different, I myself change. I don't think I can foresee how this mess will look in a month." 

Sam stayed silent after that, seemed to process what Dean had trusted him with. The younger boy was glad he had told Sam the truth- it felt good to just be open to somebody once in a while, to just talk without fearing the consequences, to be without overthinking himself all the time. It felt good to have someone he could confide in.  

"That makes sense", Sam interrupted his thoughts suddenly. "To wait and see how things turn out instead of rushing them. You're quite wise for your age!" 

And he carefully bumped Dean with his elbow, grinning teasingly.  

And Dean could only grin back. Rarely had he felt as accepted as in this moment. 

 

* * *

 

Once they had finished cleaning the dishes, Sam leaned back again and let Dean go back to baking. They kept talking, mostly about innocent topics like Gabe or Sam's job or what Dean was doing with the cupcake dough. The longer they talked, the more Dean came to the conclusion that his intuition had done a good job in keeping Sam here, in speaking with him. Sam was empathetic, funny, really intelligent, and Dean decided that he could be lucky to have the giant as part of his family. 

"Can I ask you something?", Dean asked after he had heard the story of Sam and Gabe's first meeting as the college roommate's brother from Sam's perspective.  

"Sure", Sam retorted lightly. 

"It's something really personal", Dean admitted, insecurity spreading in him.  

Sam chuckled unimpressed and ensured: "Dean, just ask. If I don't want to answer it, I'll tell you and we'll just change the topic." 

"Okay", Dean murmured. He kept his glance down on the dough he distributed into the cupcake tins, his back to Sam, mentally prepared for the rejection. He didn't really expect a response for the blunt question, but his big brother wouldn't take it personal; Dean realised that he had nothing to lose in asking. Hesitating for another moment, he suddenly blurted out: "How did you find out you were gay?" 

He tensed because of his sudden outburst, afraid he might have said too much. For a moment, Dean didn't dare to turn around, didn't even move.  

Sam's soft chuckle snapped him out of his paralysis, made him relax. Sam wasn't mad. It was going to be okay, Dean told himself. 

"Well, that answer is more complicated", Sam admitted, his voice not angry or strained or cold at all. "I should probably start with the situation that I'm not gay." 

This made Dean finally turn around, squinting at Sam in confusion: "But...?" 

"I'm bisexual. Do you know what that means?" 

Dean just shook his head, looking at his big brother in barely contained curiosity. 

"People aren't necessarily gay or straight, just as sexuality isn't black or white. There are all the colours of the rainbow represented in sexuality, and with increasing tolerance, the definitions of the shades became more and more accepted. Bisexuality, like I identify with, means that you like both, men and woman. I had some girlfriends and some boyfriends before I met Gabe and lost my heart to him", Sam laughed. "Do you understand that?" 

Dean nodded, so far it sounded logical to him, but the topic caught him: "What other kinds are there?" 

"Well, there is asexuality, which means that the physical attraction to others is low or none. There are many grey areas in every sexuality, but asexual persons suffer most from stereotypes nowadays, as people just don't understand that it doesn't necessarily mean no sexual attraction at all. For example demi-sexual people experience attraction, but only with people they have a strong emotional bond with. It's unique for everyone. Another example for a sexuality is pansexuality, that's what Gabe identifies with. It basically means attraction regardless of gender, sex or identity but because of the character", Sam elaborated. 

"That sounds quite complicated", Dean admitted. The sheer amount of information overwhelmed him, and combined with him questioning his orientation either way he felt a bit dizzy. 

"Yeah, it is, and that's just sexuality. There are a lot of people that feel like they were born in the wrong body, transgender or bi-gender or genderless people, for example", Sam agreed. "But all these definitions, as complicated as they may seem- they are important. In our society, we think in categories, and it is just natural for teenagers in puberty to question which category they belong in. The more categories we allow people to identify with, the better. It makes them feel accepted in society, allows them to live their sexuality instead of hiding it. It allows them to come clear with who they are." 

"You know a lot about the topic", Dean observed.  

Sam gave him a sad smile: "Those are some of the cases I specialised in. I try to strengthen the rights for those who aren't necessarily accepted by society and conservative politics." 

Dean nodded, in thought. He hadn't known any of this, and he wasn't sure what to do with the information. On one hand, it confused him even more as he now couldn't really suppress the topic as he had done before. He knew the basic orientations and couldn't ignore his doubts anymore. On the other hand, Dean now had a chance to identify himself, to find real answers. What Sam had explained made sense- there were more possibilities, but that was a good thing.  

"Dean?", Sam interrupted his thoughts carefully. "You don't have to answer, but... why did you ask?" 

Avoiding eye contact, Dean turned back to the dough, pouring it absently into the forms. He chose to take the safe way and answer with a question himself: "Is it bad if someone doesn't know what to identify with, yet?" 

He didn't doubt that Sam would catch the underlying question- was it bad that _Dean_ didn't know it yet? Was he abnormal because of it? Did it make him stupid? 

Sam's voice was soft as he answered: "Those categories I just explained to you- they are meant to help those who are searching. They can grant a definition for those who need definitions to get along with themselves and with society, but they are not necessary for everyone. Many persons just say that love is love, an whoever they'll end up with is important, not some stupid term that doesn't fit perfectly anyway. Because, in the end, sexuality is different for every individual; no definition can ever truly describe the reality. What is important is that you are happy with who you are, Dean, and unafraid to live how you want to live, not which gender you'll end up loving." 

Dean felt the knot in his stomach ease, felt his throat well up with tears as he listened to Sam's explanation. It sounded so simple like that. Love is love, and it the end, this was what mattered. 

But Sam wasn't done yet: "And, Dean? Whatever you decide, whether you find a definition for your orientation or whether you just want to feel without too many words over it, your family will always be there for you. You managed to get some of the most loving and tolerant people around you, and none of the persons I know, not Ellen, Bobby or Mary, not Cas or Gabe, not me, will ever judge you. Okay?" 

Tears overflowed Dean's eyes as he turned to face Sam. He didn't trust his voice not to break, so he signed the 'thank you'-kiss to his big brother. Sam's worried expression became a proud little smile once he realised that Dean's emotional outburst was not necessarily negative, and suddenly they were hugging each other.  

Afterwards, Dean was sure that it had been Sam's move, and for days he didn't know what was more amazing- Sam's intuition how to comfort him or that he didn't flinch back. Either way, he relaxed into the bear hug, grateful for the acceptance and the affection expressed through it.  

A cough brought both of the brothers back to reality, and they scrambled apart, their eyes wide at Gabriel. 

The small man stood in the entry way to the kitchen, leaning against the arch. A mischievous grin marked his features, but his eyes twinkled in unspoken emotions. 

"You boys okay?", he asked as he went over to greet his husband.  

Dean nodded and took another step back, wiping away the remnants of his tears.  

Gabe turned to Sam, giving him an assessing gaze: "What are you even doing here?" 

"I wanted to bring you your phone, you forgot it at home this morning", Sam explained. "And I could ask you the same thing, where were you? Are you alright?" 

"A woman asked me to make something for her wedding buffet, but she only had time this morning. Dean was friendly enough to take my shift so I could score the order for us", Gabe preened proudly.  

Sam chuckled and pressed a kiss on his husband's forehead: "Good job, sweetheart. Before or after Christmas?" 

"After, thankfully", Gabe sighed. "Otherwise it would be too much stress, we'll have a lot of stuff to prepare." 

Dean listened to them talking and a warm feeling spread in his chest. He felt good. His meeting with Sam might not have been how he had imagined it, but Dean found a special comfort in the giant. As he heard them talk about Christmas, Dean suddenly got an idea. He whipped around. 

"What do you have planned for Christmas eve?" 

Gabe looked a bit shocked to hear Dean talk, to see him so unperturbed, but he was quick to answer nonetheless: "We'll just hang around with Cas, probably. It's our first year back here, so we don't really have a tradition or something." 

"Would you like to spend it with us?", Dean blurted before he could talk himself into not-asking. 

Sam and Gabe stared at him wide-eyed, frozen for a moment. Then Sam asked, carefully: "Are you sure, Dean? We wouldn't want to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable." 

"I know that this situation is chaotic, but... I love to have my family growing. And I don't really get Christmas and Jesus and stuff, but I understand family. I want to spend this day with my family, and that's just what you guys are", Dean shrugged helplessly. "It would be an honour for me to have you and Cas and Mary over." 

The husbands looked at each other, quietly coming to an agreement as they nodded enthusiastically. 

"It would be an honour for us, too", Sam smiled. 

Winking at Dean, Gabe added: "We can bring some pie!" 

And Dean could only grin, too. With every new day he spent with his family, Dean appreciated them more and more. He didn't know how he deserved them, but for now, he wouldn't question it. He would just enjoy the warmth that lead him through his days. 

 

* * *

 

Of course, Ellen and Bobby were fine the rising number of guests as Dean asked them when he came home from work. 

They were surprised, but happy for Dean, and they told him so once they were sure he was alright. 

Still riding high, Dean flipped back on his bed as soon as he entered his room, his phone in his hand. He had one more mission to complete today. 

 

Sent- 03:34PM: Hey Cas, do you have any plans for Christmas? 

 Cas- 03:36PM: Hello Dean, yes I planned to spend the evening with Sam and Gabe. Why are you asking? 

Sent- 03:37PM: I wanted to spend Christmas with those closest to me, so I invited Mary, Sam and Gabe over 

 Cas- 03:42PM: That's nice, Dean. 

Sent- 03:43PM: Will you come, too? 

 Cas- 03:44PM: Are you inviting me? 

Sent- 03:45PM: Of course, Cas!! 

 Cas- 03:48PM: Wouldn't I intrude? 

Sent- 03:50PM: What? No! 

 Cas- 03:54PM: Are you sure, Dean? I feel honoured that you invited me, I really do, but I wouldn't want to invade your family meeting. 

Sent- 03:55PM: Castiel, I want you to spend Christmas at our house. Yes, there'll also be my family, but I want you to be there, too. You are practically my best friend! 

 Cas- 03:58PM: Thank you, Dean. I'd be happy to attend. 

Sent- 04:00PM: Awesome! 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another happy chapter! I hope you like it!
> 
> If you feel like something important is missing in Sam's explanation of the different orientations, please feel free to tell me! Most of it relies on the internet or on tumblr so I'm thankful for any additional explanation:)
> 
> Also, I'm sorry that it often takes me a few days to answer your lovely comments! They are always a total joy and pure motivation to read, but I want to take my time in thanking you for them. Once again, thank you for your responses and your patience!!!
> 
> Edit 18/03: I promise you that I did not abandon this fic! Chapter 16 is killing me, I already wrote five different versions and I'm still unhappy. I'm terribly, terribly sorry for the delay, I hope to have it finished and edited soon- until then, thank you for your patience!!! (again.) (sorry.)


	16. I don't need batteries to play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning: Forget the cliffhanger from the previous chapter. Explanation in the end notes.

As a child, Castiel had been confused by the concept that was called Christmas.  

His friends had told him about their presents and how they had decorated the tree with their parents and siblings and what they had planned to celebrate, but none of these traditions were familiar to Castiel. Instead, his family would go to the sermon, have a quiet dinner, pray, sleep and in the morning, go back to the sermon.   

 

When he had been eight years old, little Castiel decided to give his parents a present for Christmas for the first and only time. Maybe they didn't known about this custom, he had thought. Maybe, he could make them happy with something. Maybe, they would laugh again.  

It hadn't been much, just a picture of his family which the child had drawn, and yet, it meant a lot to Castiel. On the picture, the little stickmen stood together next to a huge Christmas tree, holding hands and wearing abnormally big smiles. The stickmen were a family. They loved each other.  

It had also been the first year in which Castiel spent Christmas evening alone in his room, yelled at by his parents and older siblings not to give in to Satan' allurement.   

Confused, rejected, hurt- little Castiel hadn't understood what he had done wrong. 

The only one to help him was Gabriel, who had snuck in his room later that night and had given his little brother a drawing he had done himself, too. Gabriel had explained to him that their parents were only afraid, that it wasn't personal, that he should just play part in the act they called a family.  

Castiel understood what Gabriel had meant, and yet, every year, he secretly gave his big brother a present and his brother gave something back to him. That was Castiel's first Christmas tradition.   

  

When Castiel became older, he started to rebel.   

He questioned his family, questioned their so-called love and care for each other, questioned their motivations.  

He criticised their religion, criticised their strict rules, criticised their overplayed charity and wrong altruism.  

He challenged what he had grown up with, challenged the views he had imprinted in his head, challenged himself.   

Which is why, as a teenager, Castiel had spent every single Christmas evening locked into his room, 'to think about his sins' and 'to resist the devil'. It hadn't really been a problem for him, Castiel was glad to escape his family, to spent the evening with his books, to escape in a world full of fantasy and joy. He was grateful for the bit of peace it granted him.   

The only one from his family who mattered, Gabe, always found a way for them to exchange their presents no matter how much their parents tried to isolate Castiel. Trying to cheer his little brother up, he always wrote a stupid pun on the packing- jokes like 'what do snowmen eat for breakfast? Frosted flakes!' or 'what often falls in the north pole but never gets hurt? Snow!'.  

They were never really funny, but with time they meant more to the little brother than the actual present.  

And thus, another Christmas tradition for Castiel was born.   

  

When Castiel finally had moved out from his parent's home, living with Gabe and Sam in their shared shoebox sized apartment, he hadn't expected Christmas to change. He had planned to spend the evening in their home, with one of his favourite books and a frozen pizza.  

Sam wouldn't take it. Once he had heard that Cas and Gabe hadn't had a place to go to, a family to celebrate with, he had invited them to come with him to Lawrence and to spend the holidays with him and his mother.  

What expected Cas and Gabe overwhelmed them. Finally, they had a Christmas tree, Christmas cookies, even a few more Christmas presents. Mary had instantly accepted them as expanded family, she even asked Cas in secret whether there was something going on between her son and Gabe. Apparently, she saw it before anybody else, because not long after, they found the two making out in front of the tree.  

It was one of the most important experiences Cas ever had.   

At last, he felt accepted, happy. At last, he was actually looking forward to Christmas. At last, he understood what family means.  

His favourite Christmas tradition became this- Gabriel and Sam, cuddling on the couch; Mary, listening to her favourite choir chanting carols over her old record player; Cas, buried under the books his family had given him.   

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Cas", Gabe's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.   

Castiel stood in his room and eyed himself critically in the mirror. He wore his nice, dark jeans, a white button down and his hair just could not be tamed no matter how hard he tried. He hoped it was yet adequate enough for Christmas with the Singers.   

With Gabriel's entry, he turned around: "Are you and Sam ready to go?"  

"Just another minute, baby bro. There will be a lot going on this evening, and I don't know whether we'll find a minute of peace, so I thought I could give you my present now."  

Castiel smiled gratefully and nodded. Even today, they both highly valued their little traditions as they were what had kept them sane when they have still been at their parent's home. Even when Sam and Gabe lived in Washington, they had visited every year to exchange presents, stupid Christmas jokes and most importantly their brotherly love.  They still relied on each other. 

Settling down on the foot end of Castiel's bed, Gabe lifted a present from behind his back. He always insisted, that -as the younger brother- Castiel should open his present first.  

Cas sat down next to him and obediently took the present. It wasn't very big, quadrangular, wrapped in a very colourful paper with many little reindeers printed all over. On it was a white card on which Gabe had written with his messy writing: 'What do you call a reindeer who wears ear muffs? Anything you want. He can't hear you.'  

Castiel laughed and carefully loosened the card from the paper. He collected those cards, so he wanted to prevent it being thrown away with the wrapping paper.  

"Thanks, Gabe", he huffed. "I already love it."  

"Cas, you sap, it's still wrapped. Come on, hurry up, I want to see your face when you unwrap it", Gabe grinned, bouncing up and down on the bed like an inpatient little child.  

"Alright, alright", Castiel started loosening the wrapping, intentionally slow to tease Gabe. He smirked as his brother kept slipping.  

When the paper fell, Castiel could only stare at what laid in his lap-   

"Casa erotica? Gabe, why do you give me straight porn for Christmas?", he exclaimed, holding the DVD- case in front of him like it was a biting snake.  

Gabriel snickered: "Look inside it."  

"If this is another one of your jokes...", Castiel warned, but Gabe just laughed harder.  

Sighing, Castiel opened the box and froze again, this time for good.  

This really was a great present.   

Nestled over the DVD were two tickets, shiny and with the words "Kansas Music Festival 2017" imprinted on them.   

Wide-eyed, Cas looked up: "Gabe, that's-"  

"If you say that's too much I swear I'm going to be angry", Gabriel interrupted. "It's from Sam and me, and yes, it was expensive, but you wanted to go there since forever. Cas, you did a lot for us this year. You took us in, you helped us, you helped Dean, and we want to show you how thankful we are. Really, I don't know what we'd do without-"  

Castiel made him stop by surging forwards and wrapping his big brother in a hug.   

"Thanks, Gabe", he whispered, slowly pulling back. "But you don't have to be grateful. Not only did you do the same to me after Claire, but you are my family. We both know that we don't use that term loosely, so believe me when I tell you that it is an honour to have Sam and you here."  

Gabe smiled and wiped the sleeve of his red Christmas sweater over his teary eyes. He sniffled and joked: "Sorry, allergies."  

"Sure", Castiel laughed loudly, "in December."  

"Ah, shut up", Gabriel echoed his laugh. "But seriously, you deserve this. The festival's in March and there is practically every second artist from you favourite playlist- we checked. Well, Sam checked. And you can take someone with you so we have someone to look after you, little bro."  

"Thank you, Gabe. It's a great present", Castiel smiled at him.  

For a moment, they were quiet, then Cas stood and went to his closet to retrieve his present for Gabriel. When he turned around, the gift in his hands, he smirked.  

"Did you know that I had a similar thought when choosing this?", he asked.  

"Do tell, what was your idea?"  

"That you need a break", Cas was suddenly serious again. "Don't roll your eyes, Gabe, it's true. You spent the last weeks worrying because of Sam and Sam spent the last weeks worrying about Mary and Dean. You two need a few days for yourself, away from this mess."  

Gabriel hesitated, then he sighed: "Well, I can't deny that I'm tired. I could use a few hours of sleep."  

"A few hours? More like a week of sleeping", Castiel's expression softened. "Like a week in a lovely little cabin in the Glacier National Park in Montana, for example."  

"Cas, you didn't...?"  

Castiel grinned and handed him the confirmation for the reservation he did for them: "It's a little hut a bit outside of the National Park. You can drive in or explore the Rocky mountains on your own or just spend a day in bed. I don't care, just relax for a bit. Okay?"  

This time, it was Gabriel who surged forwards to hug Cas tightly.   

They held onto each other, both grateful to have the other looking out for them, then they pulled back, smiling.  

"Thanks, Cas."  

"You too, Gabe."  

"Don't mention it. So, lets go find the moose and get on our way. We have a party to attend."  

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Sam, Mary, Gabe and Cas parked the car in front of the Singer's house.  

The atmosphere was tense, but optimistic non the less. Nobody quite knew what to expect, nor have they ever met under these circumstances- of course not. A mother who had just met her son after a decade of forced separation, her other son who had lived the youth Dean could have only dreamed of, his husband and brother in law who was closer to Dean than probably proper, and Dean's adopted parents who he knew better than his biological family.   

It was a weird situation, to put it mildly. 

An yet, they were all looking forwards to spending the evening in this unconventional group, because after all, in spite of their differences, they all had at least one aspect uniting them- Dean.  

It didn't even take the boy three seconds to answer the door after Mary had knocked. Excitement practically buzzing off him in waves, he welcomed them with a wide grin, waving them inside.  

Cas couldn't stop himself from mirroring the grin- Dean wore a dark green pullover, with the white silhouette of a reindeer with a red nose standing in the snow on it. It reminded him a lot of the wrapping paper Gabe had used, and while it was cheesy and soppy, Dean wore it with so much proudness and so much happiness that it warmed Castiel through and through.   

He could only stare for a second, before he hastily stumbled after his brother into the Singer's living room.   

"Wow", he exhaled, as he took in the decorations.  

_Do you like it?,_ Dean signed, noticing Castiel's astonishment.  

The older man nodded. It wasn't as much as in Gabriel's bakery, not so obtrusive, rather intimate. The Christmas tree stood next to the old, unused fire place, beautifully ornamented with red glass decorations and little golden stars. Under it and on the coffee table between the large couches were presents in all colours and shapes. Candles created a beautiful atmosphere and soft music sounded from the speakers.

"It's amazing", Cas admitted.

_Thanks,_ Dean grinned.

Castiel's eyes became wide: "Did you-"

The boy nodded, obviously proud.

"Well, you did a really good job here, Dean. It's lovely."

_Come on and help me set the table, or you'll be stuck with doing the dishes later,_ Dean winked at him, turned and left to the cabinet with the plates.

Dumbstruck, kind of overwhelmed by this new, confident side of Dean, Castiel followed him.

It was going to be an interesting evening. 

  

* * *

 

Their dinner had indeed been nice.  

They all scrambled around the table, that was way too small to comfortably accommodate seven persons. Dean sat in the middle of the longer side, left to him Sam, then Gabe, and Mary in front of him. To his right was Castiel, followed by Bobby and Ellen next to Mary, closing the circle.   

It was clear that he was the centre of the dinner, the centre of the conversation- and he did great. He signed a lot, smiled, at one point he even laughed loudly, carelessly.  

Castiel felt himself taking in every moment of the boy's happiness, of his easiness, of his contentedness.   

Dean was joyous, and Cas wasn't sure whether he had ever seen anything more fulfilling.   

  

* * *

  

He felt even more so once they exchanged presents.  

They had decided to be unconventional and do the presents gig on the evening so they could see each other's reaction and thank them in person. And although many of their little extended family didn't know the other very well, and there therefore were many gifts that consisted of everyday things like books, clothes and sweets, each present came from heart.   

While everybody was busy with unwrapping presents, thanking each other and talking, Castiel was engulfed by the situation. He could just sit there and watch them, he realised, and be happy. He could just see them embraced by the Christmas atmosphere and their love and affection for each other and feel at home.   

A soft bump against his shoulder made Cas look to his side. Dean stood next to him, smirking up at him and holding a rather big present in his hands. He shoved it towards Cas, who read his own name on the tag around the bow. Astonished, he looked at Dean, but the boy just grinned and nodded his head to the door, asking for a talk in privacy.  

Castiel obliged, but only after hurrying to the tree and grabbing the present he had chosen for Dean.   

The  boy lead them to the door with a confidence Cas had not seen at him before.   

They grabbed their jackets, slipped into their shoes and went outside. It was cold, fitting for the end of December, and Dean seemed to instinctively move closer to Cas, searching his warmth. For a while, they just stood there, cuddled together like penguins.  

Castiel broke the silence: "I want to thank you again for inviting me, Dean."  

The boy looked up at him, his gaze questioning.  

"I-", Castiel hesitated, then he admitted softly. "I never had a Christmas so...  _nice_. Not as a child, not on my own, not with Gabriel and Sam and Mary. No matter how many people there were around me, I always felt kind of alone, like they had to out up with me because I couldn't look after myself. But here... I like it with you and your family. I feel good here."  

Dean smiled and inched closer, the back of his hand touching Castiel's.  

"I'm sorry, I'm probably rambling-", Castiel tried to shrug off his emotional outburst, but Dean didn't let him.  

"I understand. God, Cas, believe me how much I understand that", he murmured, his view unfocused somewhere in the distance.  

Castiel couldn't stop himself, he immediately wanted to comfort Dean. Without thinking, he moved his hand, grabbed Dean's. Softly squeezing it, he whispered: "It's really nice to see you so happy, you know?"  

Dean looked up at him and smiled softly. He gulped: "Sometimes, I'm afraid that I'll wake up and all of this has only been a dream. That I don't have the three loving parents I have now, the understanding big brother and the awesome job with the cool employer, who's also my brother in law. I'm afraid that I don't... that I don't have you. That you were a dream, too."  

His eyes darted to the floor as he avoided eye contact with the older man. Castiel didn't take it, he drew Dean closer and tugged him into a hug. The boy tensed for a second, but it was more surprise than shock, and just a few moments later he quickly relaxed into the embrace, his forehead resting on Cas' shoulder.  

"You won't get rid off me that easily", Cas promised, whispering. "And there is no way I would just leave you. Everybody who's here today is here because they love you. We would fight tooth and nail to keep you here and believe me when I tell you that we all have your back."  

Dean sniffled quietly, and Cas was already starting to worry, when he heard a quiet: "Thanks, Cas."  

Cas held Dean a bit tighter, running his hand soothingly along his back. When he felt like Dean was comforted and pulled back, the boy wore a genuine, careful smile. Out of instinct, Cas mirrored it.  

"Would you like to unwrap your present?", Cas offered, taking the little box out of the pocket of his coat.  

Dean nodded and accepted the present, yet he hesitated to open it. He waited for his permission, Castiel understood suddenly, and ignoring the knot that had formed in his guts with the realisation, he smiled and nodded encouragingly.   

The bow on the gift fell to the floor , followed by the wrapping paper. Carefully, Dean lifted the top of the box the present laid in, and froze.  

He looked up at Cas, back at the present, then up again.   

A grin widened on his lips.  

"Really?", Dean whispered.  

Castiel huffed a laugh and nodded affirmatively.  

It had taken him a lot of time to find something he deemed accurate for Dean- he had held art supplies in his hands, had skimmed through old records by Dean's favourite musicians, had wandered through numerous shops. It wasn't until he saw the bracelet that he instantly knew what to give him.   

It was a leather cord, which made the bracelet masculine and fitting for the boy, that was to be wrapped several times around the wrist. What made it special were the little charms around it- individually chosen by Cas. There was a little Impala, which he had to order specifically, a paintbrush, a hand that reminded him of how much Dean worked with his hands -be it baking, painting, or working on his car- and a cassette tape for his love for music. What Cas liked most was the little Amulet, an old Egyptian mask with horns, a symbol for safety.   

Carefully, Dean lifted the bracelet out of the box.  

"Wow, Cas", he exhaled and looked up. "Thank you. Thank you so much."  

Cas smiled softly: "Do you like it?"  

"Can you help me close it?", Dean grinned as a response, the cord already wrapped a few times around his wrist.  

Stepping forward, Cas closed the distance between them and locked the bracelet in its place.  

"You can add new charms if you want to, or take some away. It's individually for you, so you can change it however you want-"  

"I wouldn't dream of changing it, Cas", Dean interrupted. "It's perfect. Now I feel bad about my present."  

"I know that sounds cheesy but just spending time with you is a gift for me", Cas admitted softly.   

Dean huffed a laugh, lifted the present from where it laid behind him and shoved it towards the older man: "But don't expect too much."  

Cas fondly rolled his eyes as he accepted the present: "I sincerely doubt I'll be disappointed."  

"Just open it, Cas", Dean grinned impatiently.  

It was a framed picture, Castiel realised as he started unwrapping. It laid there face down, and as he turned it around, he could only stare at the drawing it offered.  

The picture was unobtrusive, with a mostly while background. Two people stood in the middle, the one on the right with a familiar dark head, a trench coat and a tie like the one he had worn the day he had first met Dean. The man looked to the floor, but he didn't seem sad. He seemed... strong. What confused Cas even more were the wings that fanned behind him, intimidating and protective in the same manner.   

The other person was thinner, drawn with less colours, less details. Where he didn't touch the angel he was partially not coloured at all. The man leaned on the other one, searching his support, trusting him.  

Castiel was immediately moved by picture. This man, this angel- that was him. Dean had drawn him as an angel that the boy could lean on.   

He looked at Dean with wide eyes, who avoided his gaze again, shuffled nervously.  

"Dean, that's-"  

"I know", he was interrupted. "It's not a lot or very good, but I thought..."  

"I love it."  

Silence. Then: "Really?"  

Castiel huffed a little laugh. "Dean, how couldn't I? This is amazing, I can't even... That's the best present I ever got. Thank you, thank you so much!"  

And he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around the grinning Dean. This time, Dean was prepared and he immediately hugged Cas back, leaning against him.   

Once again, Cas was overwhelmed by the boy. Not only had Dean given him a present so intimate, so personal, but he also trusted him- psychologically and physically. He talked to Cas, he touched him, he relaxed around him.   

And as Cas looked down at the boy, he couldn't help but feel honoured.   

  

In the future, Cas would say that he had not seen it coming.  

Dean would tease him that yes, sure he had.   

Then, Cas would give him one of his loving eye rolls and Dean would smirk at him.  

  

Because suddenly, Dean was closer than before. His face was right in front of Cas, his eyes wide, staring up at him, his breath against Cas' lips slightly rigged.  

Suddenly, Dean moved even closer, his vibrant green eyes never leaving Cas. He approached carefully, caught in trance- or maybe Cas just remembered it passing in slow motion? He barely noticed as arm hands cupped his cheeks.  

Suddenly, there were lips on his lips, plumb and dry, shyly touching the other. There were lips becoming more and more confident, moving with the beat of their hearts, exploring. There were lips, expressing what Castiel couldn't possibly describe, not even with a thousand words.   

  

Dean kissed him.   

Out here, standing in the cold December night, cuddled together, Dean kissed him.   

  

Once his initial shock abated, Castiel reacted out of instinct.  

He wrapped an arm around Dean's hip, pulling him closer.  

He brushed a hand in Dean's hair, leading his fingers through the blonde strands.  

He adapted the movement of his lips to the innocent manner of Dean's rhythm.  

  

Dean moved even closer, searched Cas' warmth.  

Cas was more than happy to share it with him.  

  

An eternity seemed to have passed once Dean pulled away, his eyes staring at the older man in wonder and affection and something else Cas couldn't quite name. They panted lightly, having forgotten to breath until now. Their views never left the other as Cas leaned down, leaned his forehead against Dean's.  

 

"You know", Dean interrupted the silence, "that until now, I haven't had the chance to read your book?"  

Castiel huffed a soft laugh: "That's what you're thinking about right now?"  

"It's a part of you I don't know, a part I want to know. I want to know you better, Cas", Dean shrugged. "Why? What's on your mind right now?"  

  

Reality crashed on Castiel.  

He cast his eyes to the floor, back to Dean, took a step back. Dean's hands fell from his cheeks.  

  

"Dean", he exhaled. "We shouldn't..."  

"We shouldn't what?", Dean asked innocently, his head cocked to the side, his grin barely covered.  

"Dean, this isn't, we really shouldn't- I'm older than you, a lot older, and you're still a teenager, you don't even know how you feel-"  

"Do you really think that?", Dean whispered, suddenly way smaller than before, his eyes full of doubt.  

Cas looked at him, frustrated, brushing a hand through his hair.   

"No", he answered finally. "No, not at all."  

"Don't you like me?"  

"Of course I do, Dean."  

"Then what's the problem?"  

Cas looked to the side, his brows knitted together, contemplating.   

  

He wanted to turn back to Dean, to be with him, to touch him.   

He wanted to be stupid, inappropriate, close to him.  

He wanted to shut off the thoughts telling him to be a responsible adult.  

  

Dean's hand gripped his chin, softly made him look down at the boy.  

"Cas, don't patronise me. I know what I want. I know what I went through, what I experienced, what I can do now, how far I can go. Trust me to make my own decisions and trust me to know how I feel."  

  

Castiel stayed silent, just regarded Dean, contemplated.  

Yes, he did trust Dean. He knew that he wasn't a normal teenager. He understood that Dean had been forced to grow up way faster than most of the others.   

If he was honest with himself, he acted rather selfish. Because of course he wanted Dean.   

But after everything, Cas couldn't imagine anything more painful than Dean only being close to him because of a sense of debt or gratefulness or whatever.  

  

Dean's voice ripped him out of his thoughts.  

"Ah, fuck it", he surged forwards and sealed Cas' lips with his own.  

  

Cas melted into the touch, shut out the voice in his head yelling at him.  

This was okay. More than okay. This was- no words could even do it justice.  

  

"Dean", Cas whispered into the kiss, to which Dean reacted by eagerly exploring the other's lips.  

Seconds stretched to minutes, one moment seemed to become an eternity.   

Feelings flooded Castiel, seemed to overtake his body.  

Thoughts ceased in his mind, until his focus seemed to be on Dean and Dean only.   

  

It was Dean who drew back first, giggling, then full out laughing.  

Castiel chuckled at the view, confused but too high on endorphins to care.  

"Cas", Dean exhaled, taking a step back. He looked to the sky, spread his arms as if he wanted to fly. "Cas, it snows."  

A wet feeling on Cas' cheek made him look up, too. The dark sky was sprinkled with white dabbers, enlightened by the moon.   

And all Cas was able to do anymore was to grin and whisper: "A Christmas miracle, indeed."  

  

* * *

    

They just silently stood in the snow, cuddled close to each other, for nearly an hour. After a while, the others had come outside to check on them and decided to stay.   

First, Gabe came to call them in. Instead, he collected some of the snow and carried it inside. It hadn't been a lot, but Sam's scream a second later proved them that it had fulfilled its purpose either way.  

Gabe and Sam came back outside, followed by Mary.  

A few minutes later, Bobby and Ellen joined them, carrying a tray with mugs full of hot chocolate.  

It was like in a movie, Cas thought.  

 

They were together, they were happy, they had their Christmas miracles.  

They had a new Christmas tradition, and more importantly, they had each other. 

  

And as happy as Castiel was, he could only hope that they would be able to keep it as peaceful for a while as it had been in that moment.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the delay!  
> This chapter did not turn out how I had planned it at all- to be honest, this was originally meant to be chapter 17. Somehow, no matter how I wrote it, I did not like how the original chapter 16 turned out, so it's kinda missing. Yeah.  
> That's also why I deleted the cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter; I'm sorry for that mess, too. I hope to be able to write that chapter and insert it later on, but for now I'd rather like to focus on chapters with a lot of plot.
> 
> Talking about, brace yourselves for the next few chapters...  
> Plot is coming.
> 
> [This here is the picture Dean gave to Cas](http://anobviousaside.tumblr.com/post/104811118029/12-8-14-doodling-best-friends-hanging-out-doing/)
> 
>  
> 
> And once again, thank you for all your motivating comments!! I was so positively surprised by the feedback for the last chapter, that was amazing- you guys are amazing!! Thank you!!


	17. Tonight you will sleep for good

Dean was nervous.  

Really, really nervous. 

 

As he stood in front of the door to the kitchen, he couldn't stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his heart beating at least twice the rate it did under normal circumstances.  

He could do this. He was going to do this. He was not going to weasel his way out of this conversation- not again.  

Dean had tried to approach Bobby and Ellen with this topic a lot during the last days. Ever since Christmas, he wanted to tell them what had happened, wanted to tell them one of the last things he kept secret. 

Exhaling one long breath, he tried to calm himself before opening the door to the kitchen. Ellen was currently standing at the oven, stirring something in a pot on the stove; Bobby sat at a bar stool in front of her across the kitchen island, reading one of his thick books. The radio was on, softly playing one of Bobby's favourite Seger songs and a smell of chilli permeated the air. 

Dean's heart warmed at the sight of this domesticity. Once again, a surge of gratefulness rushed through his veins as he thought about how happy he was to have Bobby and Ellen as his parents, to be here, to be loved by someone so great. And although he was nervous as hell and he knew that this talk was going to be awkward, he was also aware that it wouldn't change their view of him. They would still love him, no matter what.  

At the sound of Dean's entry, his parents looked up, smiled. 

"Hey, boy", Bobby grunted over his book. "You alright?" 

Dean smiled back and nodded. He had spent the last hours in his room, buildings the confidence to actually talk to them, but every bit of courage he had been able to muster up seemed to have left him.  

"It's still a bit of time until lunch is ready", Ellen chimed in from she was now cutting tomatoes.  

 _That's fine, I- I wanted to talk to you anyway,_ Dean confessed. 

The response was immediate- Bobby laid his book on the counter, took off his reading glasses and gave Dean an assessing look; Ellen stopped cutting vegetables, turned to him and did the same. Dean shrunk a bit under their scrutinising gazes.  

"Are you sure you're okay, honey? You look a bit pale", Ellen asked carefully. 

Dean nodded, but when her look didn't change, he casted his eyes to the floor and shrugged:  _There is something I want to tell you and it's not that I don't trust you, but I'm not really looking forwards to it. I haven't really had good experiences with that_ _topic_ _in the past._  

The thought of Aaron and what had happened back then, how John had reacted, made him shrink even more into himself. Helplessly, he slung his arms around his middle. 

 _I know you're not John. You're my family and you're here for me. I just don't want to lose you._  

Ellen was next to him within a moment, trying to hug him to her chest. Dean couldn't help it; he flinched when she approached him, stress making him fall into not forgotten behaviour. Immediately, Ellen moved back, holding her hands up in a non-threatening gesture.  

Dean flinched again as he realised what he had done, that he had probably hurt her with it, and he surged forwards and into her arms.  

"Sorry", he desperately whispered into the crook of her shoulder. Ellen's arms tightened around him, protectively, safe.  

After a few seconds, Dean hesitantly drew back, casting his parents a shy smile. It made their worried looks temper, but only slightly. 

"That's not how I had planned that", Dean admitted quietly, sheepishly rubbing his neck. Now that he had said something, that he had started somewhere, talking was easy, he realised, relieved. He'd rather not sign what he had to tell them. 

"How about we move this to the living room?", Bobby asked from where he still sat at the bar stool, his sorrow-stricken eyes not leaving Dean. 

"Nah, I'm okay. Can we just... not make a big deal out of it?", Dean asked quietly. He knew that their talks in the living room often led to deep, emotional conversations and he was so not up for that today. One exhausting topic was enough, for now. 

"Alright", Bobby nodded and looked at his wife. Dean could see that they had one of their silent discussions, until Ellen seemed to budge and begrudgingly went back to the stove.  

Dean was left to awkwardly stand a few feet behind the door to the kitchen, unoccupied in the middle of his room. To give himself some comfort, he decided to go to his favourite place in the kitchen- the counter in the corner next to the window. He could sit there for hours, had already done so, just reading books or listening to music or skimming though Ellen's recipes, sometimes even drawing.  

Once Dean had heaved himself on the counter, Ellen and Bobby didn't push him to talk. They gave him the time to talk some courage into himself, seemingly occupied with mindless things. Dean didn't miss the glances they cast him from time to time to check whether he was okay, though. 

After a minute or two, he ceased, sighed heavily and started explaining, carefully testing the temperature: "When Sam came to the bakery a few weeks back, he explained some things to me." 

"Yeah?", Ellen asked without looking up from the pot she was stirring again.  

Dean nodded: "We talked about him and Gabe and how he got to do what he does- working for equality and rights for everyone and so on." 

"That boy means well, but get him to talk about that and he won't shut up for everything that's holy", Bobby grunted with a smirk. 

"It was interesting, actually. I didn't even know... any of it, to be honest. A bit overwhelming, yes, but I'm thankful he explained it to me." 

"What exactly  _did_ he tell you?" 

"Mostly how he and Gabe met and how they came to identify themselves as bi and pan. I wasn't aware those terms existed before he told me", Dean hesitantly approached the topic. 

Ellen smiled at him: "Don't worry, honey, most people don't know until someone tells them about it. And there are a lot of terms- I must admit, I don't know all of them either." 

"But you're okay with the concept?", Dean asked, immediately cursing himself afterwards. That must have been too obvious, damn it. 

But neither Ellen nor Bobby changed their expressions or looked at him differently. Dean tried to steady himself with a subtle deep breath. It was going to be okay. 

"I couldn't care less about all that mambo-jumbo", Bobby stated suddenly. 

Dean froze, his eyes wide at his father. Ellen seemed to be surprised too, because she turned around and stared at him. Maybe, this had been a bad idea. Maybe, he should have just shut up. Maybe, he- 

"Don't look at me like that. I just don't care who loves whom, what's so wrong with that? Love is love, that's all." 

The tension visibly left Dean's body as he lost his rigidness, let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. 

"What, son?", Bobby asked teasingly. "You didn't think I was a homophobe, did you?" 

Dean could only shake his head, still too shaken to catch a full thought. He looked at Ellen, who smiled. 

"Don't worry, honey. You know that your dad is a teddy bear inside", she stage-whispered to him, making him laugh at the picture that formed in his mind. 

Bobby grunted again, but Dean could see his grin. He gulped and decided to take the step. 

"So, you wouldn't mind if I was... y'know?", he murmured, watching his parents closely. 

Ellen just shrugged and smiled softly: "Why should we? As Bobby said, we don't care who you love as long as you do find your love and as long as you're happy." 

Her husband nodded affirmatively. 

Dean stayed silent, contemplated. This was so different from what he had experienced with John, it completely overwhelmed him.  His parents looked at him worriedly, but he couldn't quite process what they had told him. 

"When John found out", Dean confessed to Ellen and Bobby after a few moments. "When John found out, I was with somebody. His name was Aaron and his father owned the motel we had stayed in at that time. John liked to keep me isolated, so for a few months, Aaron was the only contact I had. I have been so naive, so innocent, I wasn't even aware that boys loving boys could be problematic. I knew that I wasn't allowed to talk to him, but I didn't know that kissing him made things so much worse. That it made me sick in John's eyes. We left that night, but I was unconscious and I haven't even had the chance to say goodbye to Aaron." 

Bobby sighed loudly and stood up, went over to wrap his arm around his wife in front of Dean. He looked at him with a serious expression: "Dean, that man... that man wasn't healthy. He had problems, too many to be considered functioning. And most importantly, John was not your father. Family isn't defined by blood and genes, but by how you act. No matter who you are related to, we, Ellen, Mary and me- we are your parents and we love you. Nothing could ever change that, especially not the gender of the person you love." 

Ellen nodded and laid her hand on Dean's knee: "And honey,  we're thankful that you told us. We know how much that meant to you and we appreciate how much you trust us." 

As his eyes started becoming more and more teary, and Dean blinked frantically to keep the drops from falling, he laid his hand on Ellen's and squeezed it. Once again, he realised how happy he was. He had his dad, his mom and his ma, as he recently started calling Mary, and they all accepted him and supported him so far, they loved him. 

"Thank you", he whispered, and that was all the Singers needed to surge forwards and wrap the boy in their arms. It was awkward, as Dean still sat on the counter, but he melted into the touch either way. After years of negligence, he let the feeling of family engulf him like a warm blanket. 

They all smiled as his parents pulled back. 

Only Ellen sobered quickly: "I have one more question, though, honey. Why now? Did someone catch your eye? Do I need to prepare my shotgun and the whole 'hurt him and I hurt you'- speech?"  

Dean would have laughed, hadn't Ellen looked so serious. He gulped, looked to the floor and nodded. 

As he looked back up, Ellen hadn't lost her protective Momma-bear standing, but Bobby grinned and winked at him. Dean had to bite his cheek so he wouldn't grin back. 

"Honey", Ellen sighed. "Are you sure- " 

"Yes, mom", Dean answered before she could even finish her question. "Look, I know that you're worried and I understand that and I'm actually kind of thankful for it, weird as it might sound. But I know what I'm doing. I know that he's the right one for me." 

"But- ", Ellen started again. 

This time it was Bobby who cut her off, with a determined but soft voice: "El, you heard him." 

She looked at her husband critically, then at Dean.  

She gave him an assessing view. 

She contemplated. 

Then, she said: "Okay. I trust you with your decision. Just make sure to bring Cas around for dinner sometime this week." 

Dean froze, stared at her wide-eyed. How did she even know that? And how was she so relaxed about it? He had literally spent hours looking for arguments why he and Cas belonged together, already fearing her reaction. And now she was just okay with it? 

"Don't look so shocked, son", Bobby laughed. "You two aren't really subtle. Besides, we know Cas. We trust him not to hurt you." 

Still speechless, Dean nodded. 

"Which does not mean that he is freed from having a little talk with us. I expect him over for Sunday dinner, tell him that", Ellen added sternly.  

"But... don't you... do you...?" 

"Dean, if he makes you happy, who are we to step in your way?" 

"I know, that was my argument, too", he smirked. 

Bobby laughed and even Ellen couldn't stop the corner of her lips from lifting slightly.  

"Thank you for trusting me so much", Dean added on an after-thought. 

"Same goes for you, Dean. Thank you for trusting us." 

Dean nodded. Awkward silence filled the room, as Ellen and Bobby exchanged meaningful looks. Finally, Bobby sighed. 

"Alright, son, there's one more thing we have to talk about, but let's make it quick, that Chilli smells too good to wait much longer", he joked. "Have you had time to look for a therapist you might like to try?" 

He had already started to tense, but this, Dean realised, was a topic he could do. 

He had indeed done some research on local therapist. He had looked through website and website of snobby old guys in suits, bragging about their qualification from posh colleges and universities. And in the end, he had given up. None of them even looked friendly. 

Instead of looking for someone with a doctor title, Dean had started looking for therapists in general. Many were hippies, cults or other dubious creatures. One, Dean suspected, was a cover for a drug dealer.  

It had taken him a lot of time and even more patience to find C. Bradbury. In the end, he had asked an online community for tips, and received a link to her website- and he had been amazed. 

Charlie Bradbury had studied psychology in Canada and wasn't allowed to practice as an official therapist in America, but just reading through her biography and some of the articles she had written made Dean like her. Sure, she was everything but conventional- but maybe this was just what he needed, Dean thought. 

After he had explained it to his parents, they nodded. 

"If you think you could feel comfortable with her", Ellen mused. "How about we call her and ask if she takes new people, and if she says yes you go to her a few times before you decide. Nothing obligatory, just a try?" 

"I'd like that", Dean smiled. 

"Can you send us a link to her website so we can get in contact with her?" 

"But not now", Bobby chimed in. "I really do not want to wait any longer for that Chilli." 

Dean laughed at Ellen's exasperated eye-roll.  

"We'll have to get your file from Crowley and he said that he needed your signature that you leave against his advice- it's a rule from the CPS since he’s your first therapist. We know that you don't feel comfortable with him, would you like one of us to come with you?" 

"Don't you have work? Crowley's opening hours all overlap with it." 

"I could take a sick day or maybe Bobby can close the garage for a day. We'll figure something out, honey." 

"Nah, it's okay", Dean responded. As much as he did not want to meet Crowley again, he neither wanted to afflict Ellen and Bobby in such a negative way. "But could one of you call them and ask when it's best to go there?" 

"Sure, honey", Ellen observed him with a critical view. 

"Just tell us if you change your mind, Dean. Coming with you wouldn't be a problem", Bobby ensured him. 

As he nodded, Ellen relaxed and winked at Dean: "Now, let's stop torturing your father and get him something to eat before he'll turn into a cranky baby." 

 

* * *

 

At the same time but in a different corner of Lawrence, two other people had a serious talk, too. 

"If I tell you something, can you promise me you won't tell Sam?" 

When Castiel barged into the kitchen, Gabe had just popped his 'cinema special'- cupcakes, an experiment that involved coke and popcorn, in the oven.  

"Why, what have you done?", Gabe answered absently, his gaze critically on the cupcakes as he murmured to himself. "I don't think those will work." 

"Gabe." 

At his younger brother's dry tone, Gabe turned around: "What- whoa you look like shit." 

"Thank you for your astute observation", Cas murmured as he made his way past Gabe and to the coffee machine. He could feel Gabe's stare on him. 

"What have you done?" 

"Why do you think I have done something?" 

"Cas", Gabe sighed, "that's what you always do when you have a bad conscience or feel guilty or self-destructing shit like that. You haven't been out of the house since Christmas, you haven't talked to us either, and now you're all secretive, want to tell me something Sam can't know. You do know that's how you acted after Claire, too? Hurting rather than healing and so on." 

Castiel didn't look at his brother as he answered, too busy appearing occupied with the coffee machine: "It was different with Claire. I didn't deserve any better." 

Silence followed, oppressing and heavy. Finally, Cas looked at Gabe over his shoulder and snapped: "What?" 

"I thought you were over that whole story, Cas", the older brother admitted, his voice unusually serious, his eyes filled with worry. "You still think it was your fault, don't you?" 

"How couldn't I?" 

"Cas", Gabe exhaled desperately. 

"Stop it. You can't change that." 

And he turned back, not being able to stand Gabe's look. 

He didn't want his older brother to worry, not after everything he had done for him, not after he had already been stressed enough over the last weeks. Castiel was just too tired to keep up his act. 

Ever since Christmas, he had spent the days procrastinating, contemplating, worrying. He had liked it when Dean had kissed him. He wanted to do it again. He disgusted himself because of it. 

Dean was a boy, a child, damn it, he was in a weak position and Castiel was not going to exploit him like that.  

"At least tell me what's going on this time", Gabe ripped him out of his thoughts. “Let me try to help.” 

Castiel sighed: “Thank you, Gabe, really. But you have enough to deal with, already. I’ll be okay.” 

“Shut up”, the older brother yelled suddenly. “God, Cas, when I ask you to tell me something you don’t get to neglect me because you think I might break. We saw how well you are at coping by yourself, and little brother, that scared the hell out of me. Make your stupid coffee. Sit. Talk.” 

As Cas didn’t move, just stared at him dumbly, he added with raised eyebrows: “Now, baby bro.” 

And despite all the arguments against putting this burden on his brother, Castiel obeyed. Gabriel nodded, still serious but satisfied, and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him critically. 

"What did you want to tell me that Sam can't know?" 

"Are you sure you want to know?", Cas hesitated. "I don't want my stupid problems to come between you two." 

"Cassie, your problems are not irrelevant. You are my baby bro and seeing you hurting hurts me. So, talk. Whatever it is, we'll find a solution." 

Castiel sighed. He looked at his hands, up at Gabe, back down at his hands. Finally, he murmured:

"IkissedDeanandIlikeditbutIknowIshouldn'tandnowIdon'tknowhwatodo." 

"You kissed Dean?!" 

"How the hell did you understand that?" 

"Practice. I'm fluent in 'Cassie-murmur'", Gabe sighed exhaustedly. "Don't change the topic. You kissed Dean?" 

Castiel's answer was only a whisper, more a question than an answer: "Yes?" 

"Cas." 

"It was on Christmas, okay? When we were outside", the younger brother admitted, his tone just as tired as Gabe's. "And before you ask, it was him who did the move, not me." 

"What happened afterwards? Did you two talk?", Gabe asked with knitted eyebrows. 

"He told me that he hasn't read my book yet." 

"Is that a euphemism for some kinky thing?" 

Cas snorted. It was the first time in days he let himself go enough to laugh. He had been too afraid to lose control, to call Dean or even visit him, too afraid to screw up, too afraid of himself. 

After all, he had liked kissing Dean. He was a creep, a pervert. Dean deserved better. 

"I was surprised, too. He said that he wanted to read it because it's part of me and because he wants to know me." 

"Smooth move", Gabe acknowledged, not quite smirking but way more relaxed than before.  

"But, Gabe, he's a teenager, barely not a child anymore and he... we know that he has a history. I'll just make it worse", Castiel stammered desperately. 

Gabriel stayed quiet, eyed him critically for a moment before he asked: "Why do you think he kissed you?" 

"Because he's thankful that I helped him. He doesn't know that he doesn't have to pay me back or whatever", was the sighed answer.  

"So you think that because he doesn't know how to express his gratefulness, he decided to kiss you and flirt with you? Cassie, man, open your eyes", Gabe was suddenly laughing. "Dean doesn't just touch people, you know that since you've first met him- remember that panic attack? Even if a touch isn't unexpected, he often flinches back or avoids it all together. When he  _does_ touch a person, he does it because he wants to. He wanted to hug Sam that time at the bakery, he wanted to touch Ellen after his panic attack, he wanted to cuddle with you. Not for you, but for himself." 

"He's still just a teenager and so much younger than- " 

"Shut up, Cassie. You want to know what I think? I think that you're afraid. Because whatever you and Dean have, it's something special. He trusts you, you trust him, you two just... function. So for god's sake, stop using Claire or your age or even Sam as excuses not to pursue your happiness!" 

Castiel just stared at his brother, so Gabe kept going, his tone calmer now: "The situation you two have is difficult, yes. You are right that you have to be careful not to rush him, that you have to be forgiving when he's dealing with his past and hasn't got energy for you or mood swings or whatever, that you'll probably have to deal with Sam's wrath for a few weeks- I'm not going to sugar-coat it, Cassie, a relationship with Dean won't be easy. But I know you. You don't want easy, you want to do it right. And, more importantly, you want Dean. So stop the charade and just tell the boy your worries. Create rules so you can both feel comfortable and don't have to be afraid to do the other wrong. And then, have fun telling his family." 

Ignoring Gabe's joke, Castiel stayed still. Thought about what his brother had said.  

A careful smile spread on his lips. 

"Telling the family really will be a nightmare, won't it?", he agreed with a smirk. 

"Jup, it will", Gabe mirrored his expression. "But for what it's worth, I'm glad you've reached an understanding." 

"Thank you, Gabe, really." 

"Little bro, it's an honour. No go and write your boy so you can talk. You probably haven't really talked since Christmas, have you?" 

Castiel gulped, embarrassed, and casted a look to the floor: "We did write, but I avoided the topic. I didn't want him to feel neglected, nor did I know how to act, so- " 

"You don't have to justify your actions to me, Cassie. I understand. Just write him now." 

"I will", Cas smiled as he stood up and went for the door. On an afterthought, he turned around again. "Oh, and Gabe- " 

"Don't worry, I won't tell Sam. That will be your pleasure." 

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Dean leaned his bike against the façade of Crowley's house.  

Today had been great, so far. His mom and dad had reacted way better than expected, even accepted his feelings for Cas, they had agreed on him meeting Ms. Bradbury and the cherry on top of it was that Cas had written him, asking him to meet! 

The older man had avoided him for the last few days, Dean was aware of that, but he also understood that Cas needed time. He had sounded happy- as far as someone can sound happy over a text message- and Dean was optimistic. Cas wasn't going to just send him away. 

With all the good things he had experienced that day, Dean was sure that he could manage meeting Crowley again. Cas was going to walk him home from here, so he had a reason to say he had to leave soon. Crowley couldn't do anything, not anymore, not now that Dean was so... that he had found a home. 

Dean took a deep breath to silence the uneasy feeling in his stomach before he opened the door. 

To his surprise, Ruby was nowhere to be seen.  

He didn't like the receptionist, so he didn't mourn her absence, yet it was strange that the practice was so empty. Dean went to the counter to make sure, maybe she was in one of the backrooms, but no-one came.  

Once more, he looked around. Nothing. 

Ellen had called, so they should be expecting him.  

Dean hesitated, lingered in the waiting room. Cas was going to be here in around ten minutes. He sighed, and went to Crowley's office. Maybe the therapist already expected him, he wondered, as he carefully made his way down the hallway.  

The door was closed, which normally meant that a therapy was in session, but Dean knocked none the less. He wanted to get this over with.  

A moment passed, another one, then the door was ripped open. Crowley leaned in the doorway, a smirk contorting his face. 

"You're late, Dean", he sneered. 

Dean just shrugged. He wasn't in the mood for Crowley's games, so he nodded towards the room in question. 

"Well, for some it's just too late, I guess. Come in, I have the forms prepared." 

The uneasy feeling in Dean's stomach multifield as he followed the man into the room. Crowley went to sit behind his table, motioned for Dean to take one of the chairs in front of him, but the boy didn't want to sit down. He wanted to leave as soon as he could. 

"Boy, to sign them you'll have to at least step closer", Crowley snapped, his voice cold.  

Out of instinct, Dean obeyed. Without even reading the papers in front of him, he scribbled his signature where he had to. A few minutes passed, tense, stressed. As he had made his way through the stack of papers, Dean discarded the pen and looked at Crowley, expecting. 

The slimy man clicked his tongue, his gaze raking all over Dean. 

"One more thing, Mr. Singer. We won't meet again, so I thought a little present was adequate", he smirked. 

Dean fidgeted as he didn't understand what Crowley meant. Confusion and panic started to build in him, and all he wanted to do was run outside and search Cas.  

"Don't be so shy, Dean, it's rude to ignore guests", Crowley nodded to somewhere behind Dean, his grin becoming wider and wider, scarier and scarier. 

 

Dean turned, slowly, carefully. He was instinctively aware that he had no way to escape, Crowley blocking the window, the unknown person the doorway.

Hands balled in fists, his whole body rigid, Dean came to stop. 

 

He saw feet, long feet, in black dress shoes. 

Long, bony legs were covered in a grey suite. 

A red tie, garish and blinding, hung loose around a long neck. 

Dreary eyes transfixed Dean. 

 

No. 

 

"Mr. Crowley, your payment has been transferred. You can leave now", a frightening familiar voice sneered. 

 

No.  

Dean's breathing came harder and harder. 

 

"I trust you to get rid of all evidence?" 

 

No. 

The edges of his vision became dark. 

 

"It was part of our deal, Fergus. I don't break my deals." 

 

No. 

Dean didn't even realise how much he was shaking, trembling, how close he was to unconsciousness. 

 

"Good. Farewell, Dean. Pleasure doing business, Alastair." 

 

And the world turned black as Dean fell.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

Not five minutes later, Cas arrived at the address Dean had named him. He was giggly, nervous, but his talk with Gabe had given him confidence- he was going to tell Dean how he feels. He was going to ask him out. And if everything went well, he was going to kiss him again. 

Warmth spread in him as he made his way through Lawrence. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud on the sky, blocking the Winter sun. The snow has melted, but it was cold either way. 

Cas blew little clouds into the air. 

 

His good mood all but shattered as he saw the huge flames eating the building where he was supposed to meet Dean. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?


	18. Worry makes the world go around

Castiel felt like the world had slowed down around him.  

Firefighters ran to the building that was barely more than a black skeleton.  

People hurried by, stood in a crowd, filmed the fire with their phones, unaware of the man standing amongst them, frozen in shock.  

Sirens were wailing in the background.   

  

"Dean", he exhaled.   

Then, louder, he yelled: "Dean!"  

Frantically looking around, making his way through the crowd, Castiel yelled for the boy, yelled again and again.   

  

Dean was nowhere to be found.  

Nowhere-  

  

Castiel's look fell on the black fragments, still framed by burning red.   

  

No.   

Just- no.  

He  _needed_ Dean. There was no way-   

  

Without thinking, he took a step forwards. Another one towards the fire.   

He didn't even realise he was running until a firefighter stopped him, halfway to the burning building.  

  

"Sir, you can't-", the firefighter held Castiel back.  

"Was anyone in there?"  

"Please, Sir, just-"  

"Was anyone in there?"  

  

He had to know, he thought, as he struggled against the man's hold. He had to help Dean, save him-  

  

A shattering crash ripped him out of his thoughts.  

  

Black dust was everywhere.  

A wave of heat reached them.  

The building had collapsed.  

  

It was too late, Castiel realised as he sagged to the floor, his eyes never leaving the fire.  

It was too late.   

  

* * *

 

  

Everything passed in a blur. The police had come and asked the witnesses questions. Castiel had told them that he was here to meet Dean. He told them that he didn't know where Dean was now. He told them the Singer's phone number.   

They brought him to the station.  

Ellen and Bobby arrived at the police station just a few minutes after them. They were pale, Ellen's face tear-stained, Bobby's frown full of sorrow and fear. They hugged Castiel, but didn't ask him any questions. The police seemed to have explained it.   

In the waiting room, they were all quiet. As if he was underwater, Castiel saw people pass, uniformed police officers hurry through the hallway, all in a hectic manner. Absently, he wondered why a police station had a waiting room. Did people wait a lot here?  

An elbow in his ribs made him look up- a man in a suit stood in front of them, his mouth moving. He went away again. Ellen and Bobby followed. When Castiel didn't stand up, Ellen came back, held his hand and led him with them.  

They were in an office, when the man said: "There is no way to sugar-coat this, Mr. and Mrs. Singer, Mr. Novak- Dean is missing. Witnesses saw him enter the building, his bike was in front of it, there is no question about it. However, we do have good news to some extend- he wasn't in the building when the fire spread."  

"What does that mean, Agent Hendrickson?", Bobby asked, his voice heavy, his hand holding his wife's tightly. Agent?  

"There was no body in the fire. Dean didn't die there, which is the good news. The bad news is... Dean is missing and the last place where he had been seen holds no evidence whatsoever because of what we suspect was arson. We don't want you to worry unnecessarily since that's all just a guess, but we can't afford to think that that was a coincidence. At the moment, we prepare to investigate a possible abduction."  

Castiel repeated the words in his head.   

Numbly, he realised that Dean was alive.   

Dean was- he was missing.   

Dean was in danger.   

Ellen started sobbing quietly, leaning into her shattered husband for support.   

Castiel coughed, his voice raw: "But... why?"   

The agent sighed deeply and rubbed his face in a tired manner.   

"I don't know how much you know about Dean's past, but his file is quite... informative. We don't want to jump to conclusions, especially since he has only been missing for five hours."  

Castiel didn't know what surprised him more- that it had only or already been five full hours since the fire. He looked at the man in front of him.  

"What does Dean's past have to do with all this?", he asked hoarsely, fearing the worse. He wasn't even sure whether he really wanted to hear the answer.  

Hendrickson sighed deeply: "The man that... that violated Dean. He has never been caught. Alastair Heyerdahl fled to Mexico before we could catch him, originally because there were questions concerning his doctor's license and cruelly blemished corpses that were found in the morgue of the hospital he had worked in. Somehow, he got wind of it and fled. We searched his houses for evidence- and it was good that we did, because that's how we found Dean. There is an international warrant for him but we couldn't do more since he wasn't on US soil anymore."  

"Were you there?", Bobby asked, his face tense in shock. Just now Castiel realised how emotionally invested the agent sounded.   

"I led the investigation", was the short answer.   

"What about John Winchester? Shouldn't he be a suspect, too?"  

The agent just shook his head: "John Winchester is currently in a cell in Ensenada, Mexico because of public intoxication. The Mexican government won't extradite him, they have their own problems with him, but they allow us to keep an eye on him as long as we don't interfere any further. There comes no danger from him as he is arrested right now, but we don't eliminate him as a suspect, should he work through someone else for example. Either way, we see Mr. Heyerdahl as the bigger threat at the moment so we'll concentrate on him."  

"And what happens now?", Ellen whispered, tears still streaming down her cheeks.  

Rubbing his hand over his face, Hendrickson hesitated, then he answered: "What we have here is a high risk identification, whether this has to with Alastair Heyerdahl or not, so immediate response is necessary. We can't risk Dean getting hurt.   

Right now, the first hours are most important to decide how we lead this case. We already started with the CARP- the Child's Abduction Response Plan. Basically, this means that we talk to witnesses, work out a media strategy, set up our technics and lab, try to find evidence at the scene and question the immediate environment. We do everything we deem helpful to evaluate the situation and find clues so we can personalise the following investigation to this special case.  

Especially because of Dean's past, we want to be prepared, so we already organised specialists to support us- an Evidence Response Team, a Computer Analysis Response Team, Profilers, extra surveillance, SWAT and other agents that investigated Mr. Heyerdahl's case before.  

Our hope at the moment relies on the witnesses, the GPS in Dean's phone, pole cameras and so on. The more information we find, the better we can decide how to keep searching.   

Finally, there will be renewed efforts to find Mr. Heyerdahl. As our main suspect we can arrest and question him at the station, but for that we have to know where he is. Should he be in America, then we'll find him, I can ensure that. Same goes for Mr. Winchester."  

"How can we help?", Castiel asked with knitted eyebrows, but Hendrickson shook his head.  

"Right now only with information and you already did that. If you remember something new, call us. Otherwise, we need you to go home. Get some rest. Come back tomorrow."  

Castiel frowned. That wasn't enough; they should do much more, so much more.   

"I know those looks, but I can ensure you that we will do everything in our power to find Dean", Hendrickson stated with a serious expression. "For now, there's few you can do. Go home so Dean has an address he can go to should this all just be a terrible misunderstanding. Rest so you have energy tomorrow- I don't want to be too blunt, but if we don't find Dean within the next few hours, you will need all your strength."  

Bobby grunted, it was obvious that every fibre of his body opposed to stepping down, wanted to look for Dean himself, needed to protect his son. In the end, he accepted Hendrickson's advice, but not without promising him to be here early the next morning. They shook hands, the Singers and Castiel left the office and the building wordlessly. Only now did Castiel realise that it was already night.  

Outside, Ellen broke. Sobbing, she threw herself against Bobby's chest, begging him silently to hold her. Bobby looked just as desperate as she did as he closed his arms around her, leaned his chin on her hair.  

"We'll find him", he whispered. "Ellen, listen to me. We will find Dean."  

She whimpered into his shoulder.   

Castiel turned away from them as he felt like he was intruding, absently staring at the parking lot. He was aware that the only reason he was so calm was that he still hadn't processed what had happened. Every moment, Castiel expected Dean to come and ask them what the drama was about. He expected Dean to wait for them at the Singer's house with some new creation he had baked. He expected Dean to be okay.  

A hand on his shoulder ripped him out of his thoughts.  

"You okay?", Bobby asked softly.  

"Not really", Castiel whispered. He rubbed his eyes with his hand, sighed and turned to look at Bobby. "Has someone told Mary and Sam?"  

Bobby looked at him, sorrow-full: "Yes, the police have told them. Listen, Cas, this situation? It's awful, we get that. But we owe it to Dean to keep ourselves together. Be strong for him, even if that means crying from time to time. Don't bottle this shit up, Cas, it will destroy you. We'll need you once we get Dean back, so look after yourself."  

"Can I help tomorrow?", Castiel just asked. He couldn't- he just couldn't right now.   

"Of course", Bobby sighed instead of pressuring him to answer his request. "We'll meet Mary, Sam and Gabe here tomorrow and make a plan with Agent Hendrickson. You go home and rest now. We need you awake tomorrow, and frankly. You look like shit."  

Castiel nodded. This was not a fight he should be having now.   

  

* * *

 

Once Castiel had reached his home, he went straight to his room. Sam and Gabe were at the Singer's house to get up to date on the situation. Bobby had forbidden him to join them, grunting that they'd meet in less than six hours anyway.  

Castiel just needed to do  _something_ to keep his mind from the thoughts he so desperately wanted to escape from. Sleep was not an option. For a moment, Castiel thought about taking one of the sleeping pills that had been stocked in their bathroom cabinet for years, but he resisted. He could do without.  

Instead, Castiel tried to busy himself. He zapped through the TV. He reorganised his books. He changed the sheets on his bed. He wiped the dust off his cupboard. He vacuum-cleaned his room. 

And when the sun started shining through the curtains in front of his windows, blinding the torpid man, Castiel had actually managed to flee from his own thoughts effectively. Numbly, he went for a quick shower, before he left to meet the Singer's. It was going to be okay. 

  

* * *

 

"Okay, so here's what we've got."  

Hendrickson leaned on the table in one of the conference rooms in the police station, watched by the entire expended Singer-Novak-Campbell Clan. The man looked tired. Come to think about it, Castiel thought, they all looked tired. He himself probably included.  

"The most important clue was from a pole camera and other surveillance shooting of Alastair Heyerdahl. We have to confirm that he has been in Lawrence yesterday."  

Silence filled the room as everyone processed the new information. Castiel looked around.  

  

Mary had silent tears running down her cheeks. She had just found Dean, Castiel thought. How cruel, how horrible to take him away again. To show her what she could have had just to depredate it again. To present her her own helplessness- not once, but twice.  

  

Sam sat next to her, pressed closely and clinging to Gabe. Both still hadn't come out of their shock and coped in very similar ways. Sam fell into his lawyer-mode, efficient, but distant- not because he wasn't emotional, but because he was too emotional, as Castiel had learned. Sam had always been one to supress his emotions and feelings, trying to be productive and objective instead.   

  

Gabe on the other hand fell into his mother-role. He always tried to look after everyone either way, but in a crisis situation like this one, it became more and more noticeable. He was the one to make sure that people ate something, that they rested, that they were talking. Castiel knew that focussing on other people's grief allowed his brother to override his own emotions. He just had to make sure that from time to time, Gabe rested, too.  

  

Ellen leaned her forehead on her hand, elbow on the desk. She had her eyes closed, breathed deeply as she took in what Hendrickson had told them. Normally, Ellen was a proud, no-bullshit person. She was in control. She was the one looking out for her family. Having Dean missing, having him hurt, having him taken while he was under her guardianship- Castiel didn't know how she managed to stay so calm, at least on the outside.  

  

Bobby sat next to her, his hands balled in fists, his whole body tense. Castiel could see it in his eyes, how he was thinking, already working on a plan. Bobby would fight the devil himself to get his son back. In his eyes, fierce determination and overwhelming desperation fought a pugnacious battle, making him look decades older.  

  

Castiel was snapped out of his thoughts as Hendrickson kept talking.  

"I know that this is what we hoped would not happen, but it's also an important clue. We know who to search, and after our previous investigation we have an idea of how that man thinks, how he works. That's very valuable for us.  

Our most powerful weapon right now is the media- we sent them pictures of Dean, Mr. Heyerdahl, and also his therapist, Mr. Crowley and his staff. They need to go outside some time, and when our strategy works, everyone in Kansas will know their faces. We have news coverage on the TV, on the radio, in newspapers. We have posters, the majors from the surrounding cities addressing the citizens and campaigns on the internet and in social networks. Most of the abduction cases are solved because of attentive citizens, so that's what we spend a lot on.  

Also, we installed software on all surveillance devices in Kansas to recognise Mr. Heyerdahl’s face, even if he carries a hat or glasses or disguises himself in any other way. Every resemblance over 60% is immediately investigated by our team. 

Furthermore, there is increased police presence at the state boarder. Our psychologists agree that Mr. Heyerdahl's priority will be to soon find a place where he feels safe, where he can hide. The longer he is outside, the more probable it is for people or surveillance to catch him, and he knows that, which is why we focus on the Kansas area"  

"But what if he has already left the state?", Sam asked, his eyebrows knit in thought.  

"As I said, we don't think he did. In every case, the police are warned on a national level. Especially the southern adjacent states- Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico- are aware of the situation. Under no circumstance do we want him to flee to Mexico, so the border security is looking for him, too."  

"What can  _we_ do?"  

Castiel couldn't overlook the fierce determination in Bobby's eyes before he turned back to Hendrickson.  

"What you have to understand is that normally, the context of an abduction and finding suspects is what gives us the most work. In this case, we already know it, so we can move way faster- which is good, but it also means that we have to rely on our specialists to track down Mr. Heyerdahl. I know that you want to do more, but you have to trust our team to do their best."  

Sam already started protesting, but Hendrickson interrupted him: "There are certain things you can do but I don't think you'll like them. For example, show yourself in the media. Talk about Dean. Make the people feel his personality when they look at his picture. Give him a face. Present him as an actual missing human, not a photograph in their TV."  

"Can't we do more?", Bobby sounded desperate.  

"Mr. Heyerdahl is a dangerous person and we do everything in our power to find Dean, but for that to work you have to trust us to do our job. The more you interfere the more we'll have to look out for you the less resources we have for Dean. We are grateful for your support and we need every information you have given us, but for now you have to take a step back."  

"So we just have to  _wait_?", Sam exclaimed, agitated. He stood up, levelling Hendrickson with a glare. "We can't do  _anything_?"  

"Mr. Campbell, calm down. I know this is a stressful situation, but you have to keep in mind that we are here to help-"  

"Stressful? Fucking Stressful? My little brother who has been missing for a fucking decade is abducted by the same man who has already kidnapped, abused and raped him for years and you tell me to fucking  _calm down_?"  

Everybody stilled, watching Sam's breakdown with wide eyes. It was Gabe who reacted. He held out his hand, slipped it in Sam’s and stood up next to him.  

"Come on, Sam", he said calmly and wordlessly dragged his husband out of the room. Sam followed like a kicked puppy, his shoulders shaking. The sound of the closing door after them seemed way too loud.  

"Did he-", Mary's voice broke. "Did that man really...did he really  _rape_ Dean?"  

Hendrickson sighed and let himself fall back on his chair: "Yes. After his rescue, Dean didn't talk at all, so we barely know what happened. All the information we have rely on the hospital staff and the few things he has trusted his family with."  

Mary gasped at the horrible confirmation, Ellen sobbed, Bobby balled his fists.   

Castiel just blankly stared ahead of him. He had hoped- he had-   

He should have seen it. When he had worked for the CPS he had worked those kinds of cases before. He knew the signs.  

Dean had shied away from touch, had difficulties trusting men, panic attacks because of physical contact.   

Maybe Castiel just hadn’t wanted to connect those signs.  

"But why?", Ellen brought him back to the conference room. "Why now? Why is he back? And why the obsession with Dean?"  

"From what we know about our psychologists, Mr. Heyerdahl does not look at Dean like he's a person", Hendrickson explained, his voice very tired. "He bought Dean from Mr. Winchester, like you buy an object. For him, he's property. He probably sees it as his right to take Dean."  

At the name of her ex-husband, Mary froze.   

"He  _sold_ him?", she exhaled, her face horror-stricken.  

The FBI-agent just nodded, making her pale even further.  

"He sold him", Mary whispered more to herself than to the others. Tears welled over eyes, a sob ran through her. She stood up, swayed for a second, held onto the chair for balance. "Excuse me", she whispered and practically fled out of the room.  

"We can't let her go alone", Ellen stated exhausted and dragged Bobby to his feet. "Agent, I trust you to call us with every new information."  

"Of course, Mrs. Singer."  

"Thank you", she turned to leave. In the doorway, she hesitated. "Cas, you coming?"  

Castiel looked up at her, then back at the table.   

"Give me a few more minutes?", he rasped. He had known that John Winchester had given Dean away like a used toy, an item rather than a person, but he had never realised the extend of Dean's past. Idly, he wondered how Sam knew so much about it.  

"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone, Cas", Ellen seemed torn.  

"Go and help Mary. She needs you now."  

"What about you?"  

"Please, Ellen. I'll follow you in a minute."  

She nodded, still not looking convinced, but left anyway.  

  

As soon as the door fell close behind her, Castiel broke. He didn't care that Hendrickson was still in the room, didn't care how he might appear. He just looked at the man, wiping away the few tears that had fled his eyes with the back of his hand and whispered: "What are the chances?"  

"Excuse me?"  

"What are the chances that we find Dean? That man kept him hidden for two years, what is different now?"  

Hendrickson sighed: "I won't lie to you, Mr. Novak, with every passing moment that we don't find him his chances become slimmer. Yet, this situation is very different from the last time. Not only do we know Mr. Heyerdahl and his motive and psychology now, but there is also you. Dean's family is the key element here. Three years ago, when Dean was missing, we were searching for John Winchester and by far not as energetic as we search now. I don't know if you're aware of that, but Dean was declared dead years ago- our investigation was to arrest a criminal, not to save a boy. Now, with his family's support and the knowledge we have of the suspect, his chances are way better. Stay optimistic, Mr. Novak, for Dean's sake."  

Castiel thought about that. About Dean having a family now. About Dean having hope. About themselves having reason to hope.  

He could only hope Hendrickson was right.  

"Thank you, agent", Castiel rasped as he stood up and more mechanically than anything else extended his hand to the other for a frim shake. As soon as the contact had ended he all but escaped out of the room.   

 

* * *

 

The tears he had held back for the past day won over Castiel's resistance, his false bravery. Confronted with the cruel details of Dean's past, with Dean's fucking past repeating itself, with Dean being hurt- it felt like his heart shattered. Every fibre of his body, his mind and his heart was filled with the urge to protect Dean and he had failed. Dean was in danger. He had not been able to keep him save.  

Castiel didn't realise as he had started shaking. He didn’t even realise where he was going, just following the ever grey hallways of the police station. 

He had failed. Dean was in danger. 

Castiel had to stabilise himself with a hand against the wall, mindlessly stumbling forwards. Air, he thought. He needed air. 

  

As Castiel finally reached the outside, he was breathing heavily. Again and again, his failure repeated itself in his head, reminded him that Dean was in danger because of him. He hadn’t been able to protect him.    

 

"You alright, brother?", a heavy voice startled him. 

Castiel looked up. He hadn't left the building where he had entered it; instead of the parking lot, he was now standing in a little alley behind the police station. An iron door had fallen closed behind him, the bang making him jump as he turned around to the voice. 

A big man stood there, a man that Castiel automatically associated with a bear. He was tall, broad-shouldered and wore a dark FBI hoodie. A cigarette was lit in his hand, his eyes assessing the other man worriedly.  

"Sorry, I-", Castiel rasped, not being able to grasp a coherent thought. "I probably shouldn't even be here, I'll just..." 

He sighed and pointed to the door at his back. 

"Nah, man, it's fine, take a minute", the man grunted, surprisingly soft. "You look like you need it." 

Castiel just nodded numbly and exhaled a deep breath, his arm slung over his face while he tried to gather himself. He looked back up, too agitated to feel embarrassed, and whispered: "Thank you." 

"It's no problem, brother", the other smiled sympathetically and extended his arm. "I'm Benny Lafitte." 

"Castiel Novak", he offered. 

"Are you...", the other hesitated. "Are you one of Dean's?" 

Castiel looked up, surprised: "I... yes. How did you know?" 

"I'm working this case, too. You just had the talk with Hendrickson, hadn't you?", Benny sighed. "That's some heavy shit indeed. Dean really doesn't deserve any more of it." 

"Wait, you said your name was Benny?", Castiel exclaimed as realisation dawned upon him. " _The_ Benny?" 

Benny looked surprised, but a small smile graced his lips: "He has told you about me?" 

"He adores you. Dean doesn't really talk about his past, but he told me how you protected him from John. I could tell that his time with you was one of the few happy memories he has of his youth", Castiel explained. "I... thank you for that." 

"It was what any decent human being would do. I just wished I could have done more", Benny sighed. "To think I could have prevented him from being tortured by that... that _man_. I haven't ever forgotten that picture of him when we found him." 

Castiel squinted at the taller man: "You have been part of the investigation back then, too?" 

"Dean hasn't told you?" 

"Told me what?" 

Benny took a long drag of his cigarette before answering, looking at Castiel with an assessing gaze. He contemplated, then he threw the cigarette butt on the floor, stomping on it with an exhausted expression. When the glow ceased, he looked back up at Castiel. 

"I haven't been with the FBI yet back then. My partner and I were just called to help with the investigation, to search a house in case the suspect hid there. We were the ones who found Dean one and a half years ago. It took me a while to recognise him, but Dean... he wasn't the same anymore", he exhaled loudly and gave Castiel a solemn view. "I know your situation is awful, but what that boy has survived- he is stronger than each of us could ever put in words. Have faith in him." 

Castiel stared at him for a moment, then he murmured: "It was bad, wasn't it?" 

Benny just nodded: "Sorry, brother." 

The world seemed to spin. Castiel had to lean against the wall behind him so he wouldn't stumble. Fear and desperation hit him with a force he had fled from for every second of the day so far. It was exactly what he had tried to avoid. 

And yet- this was really happening. 

"What do I do?", Castiel whispered, more to himself than to the other. 

Benny answered none the less: "Dean will need you once we have found him. Concentrate on that." 

Castiel nodded numbly, his view concentrated on the floor. 

It was the least he could do for Dean. He owed it to him, damn it. He had to pull himself together, for Dean's sake.  

After all, this here was not about him, but about Dean.

"Thank you, agent Lafitte", Castiel said as he straightened himself.

Determination had taken him, fuelled by the knowledge that he had a use in this whole awful situation. 

"It was nothing", Benny gave him a sad smile. "My break is over, I have to get back inside. But if you ever need anything, just let me know. Any friend of Dean's is a friend of mine." 

And with one last firm handshake, the agent vanished through the heavy, iron door. 

 

Castiel stayed in the alley for another few minutes. 

He needed the solitude to collect his thoughts, to clear his head, to make a plan. 

In the end, he was sure of it.

 

He was going to fight along Dean's family.

Whatever it took, Castiel was ready to give it up for the boy's sake.

He was not going to hide any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important question:  
> Do you want/need more triggers warnings for the next chapters?
> 
> I'm so happy this chapter is finished, I did so much research for it, I'm terribly well prepared should I ever be abducted! Also, my browser history is really weird now...
> 
> Furthermore, I'm really sorry because this is terrible timing, but I have to hand in my essay by the end of next week and still have way too much to do so there might be some delays. I hope there won't be but yeah. It might happen.
> 
> And the last point- thank you so much for your feedback for the last chapter! It was a lot, and while I'm still sorry for the sudden plot twist and the cliffhanger, it's also really cool to see so many of you so invested in this little story! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Little update from 04/19: I handed in my essay today. Phew. Frigging finally. Thank y'all for your patience! I have to admit that I'm terribly far behind for my writing schedule for the next chapter; either way I hope to upload it by sunday. Have a great week, enjoy the sun if you're lucky enough to see it -or the snow if you live in the same area as I do. We'll get over it.
> 
> Aaaaand it's sunday and I have no new chapter ready for you. Sorry sorry sorry! Things turned out to be a bit more stressfull than I had anticipated, so the chapter isn't finished- yet. I won't give you another date now, let's just keep it vage that there is a new chapter in progress and coming.
> 
> Edit 05/03/17: The next chapter is mostly written, just needs to be edited. I hope to upload it by tomorrow or the day after.


	19. I've got a one-way ticket to the place where all the demons go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes!  
> This is a heavy chapter, but you won't miss a lot should you skip it. There are many potential triggers, I warn you again. Read on your own responsibility.

 

Dean grimaced as he woke up. 

For a moment, all he noticed was a bright, flickering light, blinding him. The throbbing pain in his skull intensified, made him groan involuntarily. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out every influence that could amplify his ache even more.  

 

“Well, look who’s finally awake”, a nasal voice, frighteningly familiar to Dean, penetrated the room, echoed from the bare walls. 

Dean froze as he sharply lifted his head, looking up wide-eyed.  

It was him. 

It was Alastair. 

Alastair, who stood at the top of a flight of stairs, challenging the boy with a disgusting grin. 

Alastair, who had taken him, _again._  

Alastair, who slowly, step by step, descended the stairs, came closer. 

Dean flinched as the man’s face was illuminated even more by the flickering light bulb that hung from the ceiling, that drew demonic shadows on Alastair’s face. 

He shuffled, tried to crawl back, his gaze never leaving the other’s face. He couldn’t.  

Dean’s wrists were bound together, as were his ankles. He sat, arched together, pressed against the wall, on a thin mattress, surrounded by grey walls that offered not even the smallest window. The only exit was the door behind Alastair. 

Dean was trapped.  

As Alastair reached the floor, he surprisingly stopped for a moment, mustered Dean intently. 

“Remember me, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice oh so soft. Dean only stared back. 

It merely took the predator three large steps to come closer, to tower over the frightened boy. 

“Cause I sure remember you.” 

And his fist flew down, connected with Dean’s cheek, hard. The boy whelped and fell to the side, where he laid, covered in a fetal position, whimpering because of the unexpected pain. Tears welled up in his eyes, fled them, searched refuge on the stone floor. 

“I doubt you even begin to understand how much trouble you have caused me”, the man sneered, leaning down to Dean, making him shiver as he felt the other’s cold breath on his neck.  

“Unforseen circumstances forced me to take a bit of time off, then I come back, looking forward to see my puppy again, and not only is he gone, but there’s also an international warrant out for my head. See any fucking connection, do you?” 

He kicked Dean in the chest, the boy rolling together into an even tighter ball. 

Alastair sighed, his voice calm again: “Then again. You’re nothing but a sweet naive little puppy, I can’t expect you to understand what happens in the adult world, especially without the guiding hand of your Master.” 

A cold hand laid on Dean’s shoulder, and it took all his willpower not to move away from it. This was not a fight he could win, at least not now.  

“They probably lured you out, didn’t they? Gave you nice people food, medication you didn’t deserve, maybe even a bed? They treated you like a person, didn’t they? Oh my poor puppy, you must have been so confused.” 

The grip of the hand tightened painfully, making Dean gasp for air as his panic made breathing harder and harder. His ribs dug into his lung like little knives as he folded himself together even more. 

“Don’t you worry now, sweetheart. I came back for you. I’ll help you to become what you really are again. I’ll train you again, puppy. My sweet boy, we’ll make sure you know your place again, I promise.” 

Dean didn’t move, didn’t even react. 

Alastair exhaled loudly in exaggerated desperation, and finally drew back his hand: “I see, we have a lot of work before us. Not only is there your behaviour over the last year; Mr. Crowley told me all about that. But look at you, that weak show of defiance? Who do you think you can impress with this charade, sweetheart? Don’t be stupid, puppy. You know I have my ways to make you behave, to make you obey again.” 

He crouched down next to Dean, held his chin, forced the boy to look at him while silent tears still rolled down his cheek. His voice was disgustingly sweet as he whispered: “They tried to ruin you, didn’t they, sweetheart? And I bet you even liked it.” 

He shook his head in disappointment, like an exhausted father scolding his child. 

“It’s nothing we can’t fix. I’ll even go slow with you. We’ll start with something easy, something even you can do.” 

And he petted Dean’s cheek. The boy flinched- in a way, this was even worse than the beating. 

“Oh no, don’t be like that, puppy. I’m actually giving you a chance to understand your place, to understand your sins. You should be on your knees, thanking me for my generosity.” 

He pulled his hand back, stared at Dean with greed in his grey eyes. 

“But not yet. Not yet. Here’s what we’ll do for now. I’ll go upstairs and get you a piece of paper and a pencil and you'll have twenty-four hours. By then, I want you to write down every single thing have done wrong since they took you from me. And if you don’t forget anything, you’ll maybe even get something to eat. Doesn’t that sound like a plan? Yes, it does.” 

Again, Dean didn’t react- not that it had been expected from him. Heavy footsteps told him that Alastair was leaving. That he was alone, at least for now. 

The shock, the sudden pain, the fear had numbed him, made him immobile. His Master’s words only reached the trembling boy through the thick fog of emotions that seemed to be in charge of him as he did everything not to let the realisation catch him.  

 

He couldn’t be here.  

He was over Alastair, he was coping. 

He was just having another nightmare. 

With the moments, the seconds passing, the pain that took over his body amplified, clear evidence that... that he was here. That nothing had changed. That he was still what he has started as- a pet. Nothing more. Nothing valuable. 

As defenceless as it made him, as frightened as he was, Dean couldn’t help but welcome his unconsciousness with open arms. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time that Dean woke, he was alone. 

As he opened his eyes, carefully glanced around the mostly empty room, he was grateful to notice his Master's absence. He exhaled, exhausted, without making a sound. It wasn't his place to make a sound. Not unless his Master told him to. 

Dean's throat was dry, his ankles still bound together, his stomach empty and his body sore. After a quick check-up, Dean calmed down a bit; none of the damages were too bad. His back hurt from the thin mattress, even more so considering the bed he had slept in for the last year. He had bruises covering his chest, that made it painful for him to move or breath too deeply. His face hurt. There was a blood-stain on the cover of the mattress- something he'd have to pay for later- so his guess was on a split lip.  

Next to him laid a thin notebook under a black pencil. His task. 

Dean groaned quietly as he sat up, his back leaning against the cold wall, his arms hugging his knees carefully to his chest. He laid his head on his crossed arms and sighed. 

Dean knew that he had been lucky with his first punishment. Sure, his body had been spoiled over the last one and a half years, and going without food for twenty-four hours would hurt. But in the end, it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. 

He understood that, in his Master's eyes, Dean had betrayed him. He also understood that this task didn't edict any further punishment. It only changed, when it was going to happen. 

Hesitantly, Dean reached for the pencil, whirled it around in his hand.  

 

Only yesterday had everything been so... good.  

 

Had he been happy. 

 _I_ _disrespected_ _my Master_ _,_ Dean wrote down, his hand shaking as the ink touched the paper. 

Had he been part of a family. 

 _I allowed myself to be spoiled._  

Had he felt accepted. 

 _I wasn't thankful for my Master's effort_ _._  

Had he accepted himself. 

        _I let myself misbehave._  

Had he experienced love. 

        _I_ _was happy_ _-_  

 

Silent tears ran down Dean's cheek as the thought of his family became more and more dominant in his mind. 

God, he missed them already. 

 

He missed Bobby's gruff and yet so loving attitude. 

He missed Ellen's gentle words and hugs. 

He missed Gabe's laughter, Sam's catching stories. 

He missed Mary's sweet protection.

 

He missed Cas so much, his heart flexed into a tight ball at the thought of him. 

 

He could only hope they were alright. 

Dean knew that it would take them time to get over him, to forget him, but they would have to. They would have to accept that he was gone. They would have to keep living their lives like they had never met him, for their sake. 

They were going to be okay by themselves. 

 

What worried Dean even more was what Alastair was going to do. He had been in contact with Crowley. The things he could have been told, the things Dean had said to the man-   

 

He'd behave, Dean decided with a fierce wave of resolution. 

As long as he did what Alastair wanted him to do, his Master had no reason to attack his family.  

Whatever he'd have to endure, he'd do it. 

He owed his family at least that much.  

  

* * *

 

The time dragged along like it was nothing more than a spectator of Dean's faith.  

Moments turned into seconds, seconds into minutes, minutes into hours.  

And lastly, hours turned into days. A routine. 

 

That first day, Alastair had come in to look at Dean's list even before his time was over. He had grunted something along the lines of how it _was a start_. While he ripped the page out of the book, he had allowed Dean to eat something.  

At first, the boy had been wary for drugs in the food. He knew Alastair's ways, after all.  

Hunger won over him.  

While he wolfed down the thin slices of bread, his Master had kept talking. Had explained him his plan. Had watched his every reaction. 

"In the next five days, we'll start your first round of re-education, sweetheart. Day for day, with each of your sins. Only now, I want the lessons to stick." 

An evil grin deformed his face, his pause making Dean stop chewing and looking up. Throwing the notebook back at Dean, minus the page he had ripped out, Alastair sneered: "I'll prepare myself. Expect me back in an hour." 

 

Only the bang of the door made Dean move again, flinch.  

Desperation ripped him apart from the inside. 

He couldn't defy Alastair.  

He had to protect his family. 

And yet. He allowed himself to be selfish enough to wish he wasn't here, to wish he could fight. 

 

* * *

 

In the end, it took Dean three days to break. 

Three days of punishment. 

Three days of defamation. 

Three days of pain. 

 

He had stopped eating the day before. It wasn't worth it. 

He stank. 

He hurt.  

 

It was so much more than it had been the last time. 

The last time, he had accepted his place, had obeyed because he had thought that this was all he was good for, had thought he had to be thankful that Alastair took him in at all. 

This time, he knew better. He knew that he deserved better. He knew that he had a family waiting for him. He knew what a better life looked like. 

And while he had tried to be strong, had tried to protect his family by keeping Alastair happy, he knew that he couldn't do it anymore. He had seen heaven, and he was not ready to trade it for hell. 

 

Absently, Dean played with the pencil that his Master had given him at the first day. He had told him to use the notebook, to write down what they had done each day. To keep the lessons written down so he'd know how to behave the next time.  

Dean tensed as he thought of what he had been forced to write down, clicked the pencil several times. 

 

His body hurt. 

Several new, deeper coloured blood stains had joined the one that was already on the matress. 

He was sure that his right leg was broken, along with bruised rips and a concussion. 

The wounds on his arms would scar, should they have a chance to heal.

 

But what hurt most was his mind. 

He couldn't- he couldn't do this. 

 

The sharp ball at the top of the pencil dug into Dean's hand painfully. He flinched away, looked at the inanimate object. 

 

Had anyone ever died because of a pencil? 

Dean tilted his head as he held the pen out in front of him, watched it intently, his mind clouded by ache. 

 

The chemicals from the ink couldn't be deadly, at least not in this ratio, but the pen was sharp, it definitely qualified as a weapon. 

Carefully, even softly, Dean traced the veins on his wrists with the top of the pencil. 

It would take a lot of power and it would hurt as hell. 

But in the end- 

 

The door to the basement opened with a direful squeak; a ray of light fell down the stairs before it was covered by the form of a tall man once again. 

 

Dean gripped the pen tighter. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Missouri Moseley would have described herself as a level-headed woman.  

She wouldn't let chaos control her life, always knew how to stay constructive, how to find a solution. Panic generally had no place in her life. 

It was a trait she had been especially proud of in the past, especially during her work as a nurse. Doctors, other nurses, patients- they could panic all they wanted, Missouri Moseley was always there to stay calm. 

And yet, when on New Year's eve, just minutes before the fireworks were going to illuminate the sky, she had seen Dean Singer for the first time, she was nothing but terrified.  

It was all because of Snowball, she'd say later on. Her cat had always been a diva, always unimpressed with Missouri's attempts to keep her inside. She'd be afraid outside, afraid of the fireworks. And yet, every year, she did everything to escape.  

This year, it had been the open bathroom window on the second floor.  

Missouri had just been looking out of the window  of her kitchen on the first floor, contemplating whether she'd go outside to watch the fireworks or stay inside, when she saw the white bundle of fur land on her lawn. 

"Stupid cat", the old woman cursed as she sprinted to the door, careful so her other cats wouldn't follow her. 

Outside, snowball had already processed her fall and stretched her limbs in her trademark arrogant matter. Once she'd laid sight on her owner, she meowed innocently and within a moment, ran off. 

Missouri cursed again and ran after her, hoping to catch her before the noises started.  

 

A bang, not from a firework but from a door made Missouri look to her neighbour's house. Al was a strange person, a troubled man. She hadn't expected him to come out to watch the new Year's spectacle. 

 

It took Missouri a moment to evaluate what she saw. 

Not her neighbour stood there, but someone smaller, thinner. A boy or a young man, frozen in a tense demeanour, looked around, clearly panicked. His chest heaved with the sharp breaths he took, hyperventilating. 

Of course, all of this was only secondary.  

Because what Missouri saw first was the blood. So much blood, that covered him. Too much blood. 

 

When the boy's eyes fell on her, he took a step back, and bumped with his back against the door of her neighbour's house. He flinched visibly, looked at the building with terror written in his face, turned around to run away, away from the house, away from Missouri. 

She could not let that happen.

 

There wasn't a lot of thinking involved as she ran towards him. It was her luck that he wasn't fast, or at least she thought so before she noticed that his leg must have been hurt. What the-? 

She was still a good ten feet away when the boy fell, his eyes rolling back into his head. 

 

The fireworks went off. 

People cheered and celebrated. 

They greeted the new year with a smile. 

 

Meanwhile, the normally so level-headed Missouri Moseley quickly checked over an unconscious and clearly hurt boy that had collapsed on her neighbour's front lawn, and with every new detail she took in she felt the panic rising in her chest.  

_What the hell had happened in that house?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warings:***  
> \- Graphic description of violence  
> \- Mentions of rape  
> \- Verbal and physichal abuse  
> \- Mentions of suicide  
> \- Blood  
> \- Alastair, basically
> 
> It will end on a good note, but... eh.
> 
>  
> 
> This is the worst chapter I have ever written.  
> Bright side? It won't go below this.


	20. What I don't know can't hurt me

Castiel had always hated hospitals.  

Sure, they were supposed to make people feel better. They helped them. Cured them. 

They were practically little miracle factories. 

But for the moment, as Castiel sat in the waiting room, he felt nothing but anxious, angry, antsy. 

They wouldn't let them see Dean. Not even Bobby or Ellen were allowed in his room, nor did they tell them anything. All they knew was that they had found Dean, that he was in a bad condition but stable, that he wouldn't have visitors for the next hours.  

"He woke up once", one of the nurses, a young woman who took pity on them, had told them in confidence. "But he was in panic, so we had to sedate him. He's sleeping now and we use that to check whether any of his injuries need special treatment." 

Castiel sank deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair. 

Outside the glass façade, he saw Sam, pacing up and down the hallway. 

Gabe had gone to get them all some caffeine. 

Mary sat at the side of the room, her head leaned on her hands. 

Ellen leaned next to Bobby, who slowly traced his hand up and down her side, their gazes distant. 

Nobody had said anything since they had the call from Hendrickson.  

 

It had been four days, four agonizing days, during which Dean had been missing. 

Days spent in tears, panic, sadness, anger.  

Of course, none of them had felt like celebrating New Year's eve. They had spent the evening together anyway. All of them had needed each other's comfort. 

 

Then, shortly after midnight, the phone had rang. 

They had hurried to the hospital. 

They had been parked in the waiting room without any further information. 

 

Over the hours, other people joined them and left again. Drunken idiots, fearnaughts with burns from their home made fireworks, victims of accidents. None of them had stayed long. 

The only other person who stayed as long in the waiting room as they did was a dark skinned woman. She was rather old, but wore an attitude of calm wisdom and gentleness. Strangely, Castiel was okay with her being here. 

When the woman caught him watching her, she sent a small, a hesitant smile his direction. It was full of sadness instead of joy, full of sympathy and empathy, and Castiel was grateful for it. He couldn't handle other people's joy at the moment. 

Castiel gulped, nodded her way respectfully, turned away from her. They might not have known each other, but right then, they were connected in their grief, their careful hope, their shock.  

He felt her eyes lingering on him even as he had moved away.  

  

* * *

 

It took them hours of waiting, hours of worrying until they were allowed to finally see Dean. It was 9 a.m., the neon lights were loudly flickering on the ceiling of the window-less hallway, empty coffee cups were piled in the waiting room.  

Bobby, Ellen and Mary had been the first ones to go in. Dean was asleep, they had been told, yet they should only go in in small groups. None of them took the risk of Dean panicking again. 

Half an hour later, Dean's parents came back. They were pale, their cheeks tear-stained, their hands shaking- Castiel didn't dare to ask them. 

Sam, Gabriel and Castiel had barely entered the room Dean was in when Sam froze within a second- and before Castiel even had the chance to lay an eye on Dean, Sam turned and all but fled the room again. Gabriel instantly threw Castiel an apologetic look, but the younger brother only nodded. He understood that Gabe had to look after his husband at the moment. 

Castiel was left alone in the sterile room. 

 

It was bad. 

Dean- Dean didn't look like Dean anymore. Castiel didn't recognise the person on that bed. 

Because the man, the boy, who laid there was too pale, with hollow eyes that were underlined by dark rings. Not an inch of skin was visible on his arms, thick bandages mummifying them. Bruises were littered on his neck, his shoulders, his face. 

The only proof that Dean, this nauseating parody of Castiel's Dean, was still alive was the steady beating of the heart monitor next to the bed. 

Castiel exhaled, his jaw flexing, his hands balling into tight fists.  

Anger flooded his system, erased every rational thought. 

He was going to kill the man that had done this to Dean. Take him apart, piece by piece, let him suffer. Hurt him for every second which he had abused to torture Dean. For every pain he had inflicted on the innocent boy. 

That man did not deserve the right to breathe anymore.  

To live.  

To be. 

 

Castiel couldn't look at Dean anymore. It tore him apart to see him so pained, to hurt, so fucking small. He stalked over to the window, his back to Dean, his body still tense. 

The hospital was the St. Catherine Hospital in Garden City, Kansas. Hendrickson had been right. Alastair had never left the sate. Dean had never been more than a few hours drive away from them.  

Had they only been more persistent, Castiel thought bitterly. Had they looked harder, had they driven further, had they _done_ more. 

 

He was wrong to only blame Alastair for Dean's condition.  

It was his own fault, too. His failure. His fucking responsibility to protect Dean. 

Castiel's eyes traced the unobtrusive skyline of Garden City, illuminated by the rising sun. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't burden Dean with his presence, shouldn't expect him to- 

 

"Are you mad at me?" 

 

The words were whispered, rasped, quiet. His voice sounded strained, sounded afraid. _He_ sounded afraid. 

Castiel whipped around with all the speed he could muster up.  

Dean was awake.  

His Dean, finally, was awake. 

Was awake and looked at Cas. 

And while he still looked terrible, hurt, exhausted- it was the most beautiful sight the man had ever seen.  

"Never", Castiel choked, his voice nothing more than a whisper either, from where he still stood by the window, tears running down his face unashamedly. "Never, Dean." 

Carefully, he took a step forwards. Another one as Dean didn't look afraid, but intently watched him, almost curious. A last one and he hunkered down, made himself smaller than Dean without losing eye contact with him.  

"By god, have I missed you", he admitted  softly, still not doing anything to wipe away or hide his tears. He couldn't bring himself to care. _His_ Dean was back. 

Dean looked at him, assessed him with these fierce green eyes before his muscles relaxed. Before he graced Castiel with the smallest, the most careful and the most beautiful smile the other had ever seen. 

"You're here", Dean whispered, as if he hadn't believed in it.  

The boy lifted his hand, hesitated. Looked at his hand, then at Cas again. Relaxed.  

And he brought his hand up to the man's face, traced it along his chin in a touch that was barely palpable. 

"I'll always be here for you, Dean", Castiel all but swore. 

Dean stared at him, again, with that look Castiel did not know how to interpret. When he seemed to have made up his mind, the boy nodded. 

"Thank you", he murmured, his head resting back at his pillows. And within a moment, Dean was back asleep, Cas still crouched next to his bed, still with the boy's hand on his unshaved cheek. 

 

* * *

 

A knock on the door brought Castiel out of his reverie. 

He hadn't moved in the last ten minutes, had stayed next to Dean's bed, crouched together.  

As the door opened, he quickly stood up, straightened himself. Gabriel peeked in, his gaze sorrow-full as he quietly asked: "You okay?" 

Castiel sighed, exhausted. 

"I don't know", he admitted.   

Gabriel just accepted his answer with a nod. He closed the door behind him and walked over to Cas, where he grabbed a chair and manoeuvred it next to his younger brother.  Sitting down, he took in Cas' proximity to Dean, the teenager's hand near his brother's face, his different position. 

"Was he awake?" 

Castiel nodded without looking up from Dean's face. 

"Don't tell them yet." 

Castiel's head shot up in surprise, but before he could ask his brother, there was a sharp knock on the door. It opened without either of them having answered, and a strange police officer looked inside.  

"No change?", he asked Gabriel, his voice lacking any empathy, his eyes cold. 

"He's still resting. Give him time." 

"Mr. Novak, understand that he won't be treated any differently just because of his past. He committed a severe crime, I won't allow this to be- " 

Gabriel scoffed loudly, nearly aggressively: "Dude, we get it. The hospital will call you when he wakes up. Now kindly please leave this family alone." 

"You'd be well advised to show me some respect, boy", the police officer took a step forwards into the room, his stance clearly daring Gabe to step into this trap.  

Castiel felt his older brother tense even more, felt him flexing his muscles to get up, and while he still had no idea what was happening here he knew that he couldn't let Gabe lose control. Quickly, he stood closer, laid a hand on his arm, but a voice from the door stopped him from further confronting the police man. 

"And you would be well advised not to threaten my husband- or my brother. Leave, Walker, or I'll sue the hell out of you", Sam snarled from where he stood in the doorway. He looked pale, tired, but his tall posture and angry eyes clearly transmitted how serious he meant what he had said. 

The officer looked up, his eyes wandering from Sam to the Novak brothers to the sleeping Dean. 

"This is not over", he growled before stalking out of the room, his shoulder hitting Sam's on his way out. "I will be back the second he opens his eyes." 

Sam grew stiff, closed his eyes, exhaled loudly.  

"Not worth it", he murmured, more to himself than to the others. "Not worth it." 

The door closing with a loud bang made them all flinch, the tension still heavy in the strange room. 

"What the hell was that about?", Castiel could only stammer as he took in his family's upset, angry expressions.  

Gabe sighed deeply and went over to wrap Sam in a hug. Only then did the giant relax, did he calm down enough to loosen his fists. 

"Sorry", Sam murmured. "It's just-" 

"I know", Gabe responded softly. "But don't let him get too close. He's just a misguided asshole. As you've said, going to jail for attacking him isn't worth it. Okay?" 

" 'kay", Sam whispered as he slowly pulled back. 

Gabe checked him over one more time, made sure that he was alright, before he turned to Cas. 

"The police came by to interview Dean", he explained, his teeth gritted. "Just that they don't treat him as the victim but as the suspect." 

"Dean", Sam started as he saw Castiel's confusion, but his voice broke. "Dean has apparently killed Alastair." 

 

* * *

 

There is only so much that a human being can cope with.  

Even someone as strong as Dean.  

That such a pure conscience had to deal with taking another human's life, be it a life as despicable as Alastair's- it nearly broke Castiel.  

 

* * *

 

They met in the waiting room, only Gabe absent. He had volunteered to stay with Dean, so he wouldn't be alone should he wake up again soon.  

Castiel had thought that their little group had looked bad before. This, right here, was no comparison. 

"Okay, crash course law", Sam stated once they were all seated. "For someone to be punishable you need three levels fulfilled. First, the element of the crime has to be committed. Second, the suspect may not be justified. Third, the suspect needs the ability to be guilty. Those are the basic lines we're moving on. What makes Dean's case so... complicated, is that none of these lines are clear. 

I just got off the phone with the prosecution's lawyer, Mr. Azazel. I worked against him before, I have seen how he ticks and I can guess which way he'll chose. 

For the element of crime, we'll plead voluntary manslaughter, also called third degree murder. It's what people mean when they say a crime of passion- it's an intentional killing committed by somebody who had no prior intent to kill, which was committed under such circumstances that would cause a reasonable person to become mentally or emotionally disturbed. 

In our worst case, the prosecution will want to charge him for first degree murder. Basically, that's any intentional murder that is wilful, premeditated with malice and planned beforehand. All of this stands or falls with the subjective elements, so Dean's intention, which is why the police pressures so much on an early interview. They are afraid that we manipulate Dean into saying what works for our cause. 

Even if they do win on the element of crime, the justification is where _we_ have the arguments. The situation for self defence or at least a state of emergency is clearly there, so the prosecution will argue that Dean's acting was not adequate or that his will was to hurt that _man_ instead of defending himself. Again, those are subjective elements, and every judge with a sense of decency will see that Dean used the mildest means that were available to him to stop the attack in a yet effective way. However, Azazel's most used strategy is to paint the bad guys as the victims- should he be able to proof that Alastair had a mental illness that guided his acts in a way in which he had no control, Dean's response would not be considered adequate anymore. 

Should that be the case, which I doubt, we'll use our strongest argument: Dean did not act with guilt. We'll plead on excessive self defence because of asthenic reasons, and the case should be decided. We make a case out of the situation he was in, that there was no other way out. We'll make them understand that Dean was still a minor when it happened, still a child. 

I'm not an expert in criminal law and I'll have to call a few colleagues of mine to ask for their opinions, but all in all, there is no way Dean could be punishable for killing Alastair." 

 

 

"Is there any way we can justify his act by going against Alastair?", Bobby asked, his eyes worried but the weight on his shoulders visibly lighter with the confirmation. 

Sam shook his head: "Dead people aren't prosecuted. The only thing we could achieve with that argument is commutation, but I doubt it'll even get to that point." 

"So, from a juridical point of view-", Mary started, but Sam cut her off. 

"Don't worry about that, we should be alright. Like I said, I don't know the details or the prosecution's strategy, nor have I spent a lot of time with the case. But I'll ask lawyers specialised on criminal justice and organise a good one for Dean. I'll work on this front", he sighed. "What worries me more is his state of mind. Nobody innocent should have to deal with killing somebody, someone like Dean even less. How can we make sure he'll be alright?" 

And they all turned to look at Ellen and Cas. 

Of course they did.  

Everybody here had their speciality. For Sam it was law. Mary and Gabe looked out after the others. Bobby organised everything. Ellen and Cas were supposed to be the emotional column of their group. 

"I don't...", Ellen hesitated. "It will be a lot of work. A lot time and patience and..."  

Everybody in the room seemed to fall together. Cas couldn't stand to see them looking so broken. It was Dean they were talking about after all- strong, stubborn, selfless Dean. 

"Dean was awake for a minute when I was in his room", Cas admitted, his gaze to the floor. "It wasn't for long, but he didn't panic. He asked whether I was angry on him, I told him that we'd be there for him. Then he fell asleep again." 

He shook his head, looked up at the others: "Don't underestimate him. Yes, it won't be easy. But this is Dean we're talking about, _our_ Dean. He got over worse, and as long as we're there, as long as we work together, as long as we talk with him instead of about him, he'll be able to cope." 

Silence followed. Then: 

"He's right", Bobby stated finally. "We can't just guess what might happen. Dean will react how he will react, we can't change that. What we can do is be there for him, unconditionally. So that's the plan." 

"We just have to keep in mind that Dean's used to dealing with these things alone", Ellen reminded them. "Just being there for him isn't enough. We have to make him _understand_ that we are here and that we stay, no matter what." 

"And we have to leave him space at the same time", Cas added. "It's our job to be there for him, not to babysit him. We need to show him that we trust him to make his own decisions." 

"So-", Sam hesitated. "Be there but also... not?" 

Ellen sighed: "The beauty of psychology. We'll see how he reacts and then make a plan." 

Cas cast her a long look. Ellen looked tired, physically and emotionally. He could see her running on her last remaining energy. 

"We can't do a lot at the moment but wait", he stated. "The next days will be long, we should stay in shifts so each one has a chance to rest from time to time." 

"I've found a motel very close to the hospital with free rooms", Sam chimed in, "so we won't have to drive for hours. Gabe and I can drive home today and get everyone some stuff. I need some of my papers anyway to call my colleagues. We could be back by evening." 

The group nodded in agreement. 

"Just drive carefully", Mary said with a weak smile. 

"Of course, Mom", Sam leaned down to give her a one-armed hug. "Do me a favour and lay down for a few hours, okay?" 

"I'm fine-" 

"Mary", Ellen interrupted her calmly. "We all want to stay here for Dean, but we can't do anything at the moment. We'll need our energy later." 

"I can't leave him again", Mary whispered as tears started to well up in her eyes. "I left before and he got hurt, I can't-" 

Sam tightened his arm around her shoulder as she started sobbing. 

Bobby took a step forwards, shaking his head. 

"Mary, he didn't got hurt because you left him alone for a day. What this bastard did to Dean is none of our fault, there was no way we could have seen it coming", he said, softly but serious, as he glanced around to make sure everybody was listening. "No one here is at fault for what has happened. No one of us has left Dean or neglected any responsibility concerning him or _let_ that monster take him. Yes, we will learn from that past, whether it's intentional or guided by our emotions. But we may not let that scare us away from granting Dean his own life or from living our lives." 

He turned back to Mary: "Castiel and I will be here, Sam and Gabe will get our stuff, Ellen and you lay down so you can take the next shift. We'll work together so Dean won't be alone when he wakes up. Mary, we can try to control this part of the future. But do us all, do your family a favour and don't burden yourself with the past like that. None of you may do that. We have to work together and that will only function if we look forwards, not for guilt." 

Bobby was right. Of course he was, Castiel thought, shame spreading in him.  

He had been egoistic in Dean's room, selfish, but in the end, this was not about him. _Dean_ needed them, and he couldn't spend his time dwelling on what could have been done differently in the past. _He_ needed to be there for Dean, too.

That was what Cas decided to focus on. 

Mary nodded, too. She hugged everybody, and so did Ellen. When they left, their shoulders were touching constantly as they walked along the hallway and into the elevator, unconsciously seeking comfort in the other's presence.  

Sam sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair in an exhausted gesture. 

"I'll go and get Gabe so we can leave soon. You should get something to eat and stuff." 

He smiled weekly, then he turned towards Dean's door. 

Left were Bobby and Cas, two men who could not have been more different at the first look while being very similar at heart. They were going to take care of Dean, and if it was the last thing they did.  

 

* * *

 

The next time that Dean woke, he didn't panic.  

He didn't speak, either. 

Bobby sat on the hard couch that stood under the window to the hallway, Cas sat on a chair on the other side of Dean's bed. They had been careful to leave distance between him and them so he wouldn't feel cornered, yet they couldn't resist the urge to be close to Dean. To protect him if necessary.  

The nurses scurried in from time to time, checking Dean and the machines but never touching him. No one was allowed to touch him. They had learned that from earlier that day.

Castiel watched silently as Dean, hours later, opened his eyes.  

Excitement spread through his body, yet he forced himself to stay calm. He didn't want to scare Dean by being too loud, too brash. Dean needed to set his own pace in this, so Castiel stayed quiet, didn't dare to move a finger until the boy indicated that it would be alright.

Apparently, Bobby had the same thought. Only as Dean's eyes fell on his father, as they twisted in a mix of emotions Cas was not able to name or decipher, the older man smiled. 

"Damn boy, it's good to see you", he grunted with a softness Cas hadn't ever heard in Bobby's voice. 

Dean's lips twitched ever so slightly, and he looked from Bobby to Cas and back to Bobby. His eyes changed into a shimmer, his expression havering between pleading and something Castiel could only describe as loving, as he hesitantly lifted his arm, his hand open, his thumb touching his forehead. 

 _Dad._  

Bobby raised his eyebrows in surprise, his mouth pressed into a thin line in an attempt to control his emotions. 

At least until Dean laid his hand over his heart, his fingers spread except for the middle and the ring finger. 

 _Love._  

It was during that exact moment that Bobby broke. 

A sob escaped from his throat and he quickly buried his face in his hands, carelessly wiping away the tears that were storming down his cheeks as he looked back up. 

"I love you too, son", he rasped finally. 

Dean only nodded in a serious manner and turned to Cas. His expression was sincere, no shyness or nervousness to be seen by the other. 

Again, Dean laid his bandaged hand on his heart, repeating the sign as he never lost eye contact. 

Cas responded intuitively, by signing towards himself, then crossing his wrists over his chest with his hands balled to fists facing his body.  In the end, he nodded towards Dean.

Another sign for love for another kind of love. 

Dean's gaze softened, a corner of his lips twitching again and he laid his head back on his pillow, his eyelids closed, clearly exhausted. He had been reassured that his family still loved him, now he could rest again.  

 

Castiel watched him intently. 

For all the warmth, all the luck, all the joy that had bloomed in him with one simple sign, he also knew about the situation. Knew that this was about Dean, not him. Knew that this didn't mean that Dean was okay. 

Bobby coughed, making him look up. There were still tears on the older man's face as he nodded towards the door, silently telling Cas that he needed a minute. Castiel nodded, wordlessly assured that he would look after Dean. He would be there. Protect him.

The door hadn't even fallen close as Castiel looked back at the sleeping form. 

 

There were so many battles they had to fight in the immediate future.

 

They had to look after Dean, help him, support him in getting better, in coping- both mentally and physically. 

They also had to take care of each other so everyone was processing what had happened. Mary had been proof that they needed each other at the moment, too.  

They had to win the legal battle, had to justify Dean ending somebody's life. This was mostly Sam's weight to carry, but it laid heavily on all of them. No one wanted to lose Dean again, so shortly after they had him back.  

They still had no idea as to Crowley's whereabouts, still had to worry about him on top of everything. It was suspected that the therapist only worked as a middleman, only betrayed Dean for the money, but they couldn't be sure. He still posed a threat to Dean, so he still posed a threat to all of them.

 

Castiel sighed. 

He could only hope that they were going to be able to help Dean. For everything they could find a solution, but should Dean shut off, should he not want to fight anymore...

 

He could not let that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to my professor for (unintentionally) giving me the idea of Dean killing Alastiar (with a pencil to be exact. It sounds weirder than it is). To be honest, it was not what I had planned originally, but it fits really well into another plot idea I had that would have been kinda shaky otherwise. I hope you're okay with the turns of events.
> 
> This fic is slowly (very slowly) coming to its end, so if you have any wishes, if there's anything you still like to read or know (yes, I know, I still haven't told you about Claire- just a bit more patience for that one), now's the time to tell me!
> 
> Also, the law talk here is not correct. It's a weird mixture between the european criminal rights system and the american crimes and the procecution process is probably adapted from Narnia. 
> 
> And one last thing: If you might want to read something light and and fluffy in between, I wrote a short fic, [The story of how Dean Winchester broke science](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10846797) . So... I'm just going to leave this here I guess. Sorry for the rambling.
> 
> EDIT:  
> Because of several reasons this fic will be on Hiatus until the end of june 2017. I'm terribly sorry and thank you for your patience!  
> ~isa


	21. Those who have heard those under the covers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for ableism and graphic description of blood

Dean woke up surrounded by clouds. 

Bright, clean, soft clouds that embraced him with a warmth he had craved a lot over the previous days. 

For a moment, Dean wondered whether he was dead. Whether, through some mistake, he was in heaven. Whether he was free. 

 

Somebody touched him. 

A cold hand laid on his arm, pressed down too tightly on the vulnerable downside of his wrist. 

He didn't want to feel cold anymore.  

Didn't want to be touched anymore. 

A bright light blinded him as he ripped his eyes open, tried to regain control over his body. 

 

Light was bad. 

Light meant that _he_ was coming. 

Light meant pain. 

 

Dean scrambled up, tried to pull away. The noises suddenly lost their numbness, sharp voices became louder and louder, pierced through his fading unconsciousness.  

Hands touched him, held him down. 

There were more than just _him_ here, Dean realised with a new spurge of panic.  

He didn't understand what was happening; this was not supposed to happen; why- 

 

A sharp pain in the crook of his arm made Dean focus for the first time before he panicked even more.  

A syringe, he realised. There was a syringe in his arm. Pumping drugs into him. 

 

Dean didn't want to be drugged, he had to fight, had to escape- 

 

Exhaustion fell over him like a heavy blanket. 

He tried to struggle, tried to _try,_ but even this simple act had been taken from him.  

 _He_ had stolen even that. 

 

Dean couldn't do anything but slowly drift off into unconciousness. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

His head hurt. That seemed to be a permanent fixture by now. 

Dean sighed silently and let himself relax further into the thick cushion, into the welcoming warmth of the blanket under which he was buried. His mind was fuzzy and while somewhere, he realised that he had been drugged, that this was _bad,_ he just couldn't bring himself to care. So what if he was even more vulnerable now? So what if he was going to be hurt again. He was used to it by now, wasn't he. Maybe, being drugged would even help to take his mind off Alastair, to endear the pain. 

Dean knit his eyebrows at the mention of that name, scrunched his eyes even closer. Confusion spread in his mind, chased away his cosy indifference. 

This wasn't right. 

Something here wasn't right. 

It just- it didn't make any sense.  

Alastair would never give him cushions or a blanket or even a bed that soft. He wouldn't ever allow Dean to feel so comfortable, to be so _warm_. He wouldn't do this, he- 

 

Dean forced his eyes open. 

Too bright was the light that greeted him, too sharp for his sore eyes. And yet- Dean relaxed at the sight. 

He hadn't seen that much light in days, hadn't been _allowed_ to see that much light in days without being immediately threatened with pain. This was different, made him feel grateful for every ray of it. 

The room Dean laid in was sterile, for a lack of better terms. The bed was clean and soft. A grey couch stood to his left, under a window to a hallway. The blinds were closed, yet Dean could see the shadows rushing by. Wardrobes covered the wall in front of him. To his right, there was a chair, a piece of furniture that just like the others practically screamed 'hospital'. Behind the chair was a tall window. 

And finally, there was a man with a familiar mop of dark hair, looking out the window.  

 

Cas, Dean realised.  

 

If Cas was here, Dean was okay.  

He knew, he was going to be okay. 

Alastair couldn't hurt him if Cas was here. 

 

The other didn't notice him staring. Cas didn't even look at him. He didn't move at all, just... 

Cas didn't look good, didn't look healthy. 

His trench coat was stretched over tense shoulders. His hands were balled in fists. He looked angry. 

 

"Are you mad at me?" 

 

Dean had said it before he had the chance to think. 

Before anxiety had been able to grab him tightly. 

Before muteness sealed his lips. 

 

He shouldn't talk. Alastair hadn't allowed him to talk. 

But- this wasn't Alastair. This was Cas. 

Confusion made Dean frown, silently hiss in pain as he stretched the sore skin of his face. 

 

Cas had finally turned around, was _finally_ looking at Dean.  

He felt calm immediately.  

 

He had needed this, he realised. Had needed someone to see him, to really see him, even if Cas' intense blue eyes were open wide in- disgust? Anger? Sadness? 

For a moment, Cas only stared at him, his eyes fixed on Dean's face. He gulped, his gaze turning watery, his voice raw: "Never, Dean." 

Carefully, Cas came closer.  

 

Why was he that careful? Couldn't he see that Dean needed him? 

 

I need you, screamed a voice in Dean's head, screamed itself hoarse.  

But his lips stayed shut, only lifted ever so slightly as the other finally reached him, kneeled down in front of him. Dean could see the different shades of blue mirroring in the sapphires that were Cas' eyes, and he was sure of it.  

He was sure that he would be alright. 

"By god, have I missed you." 

Cas' voice sounded wrecked, just as wrecked as he looked. He seemed tired, with dark rings under his eyes, his skin pale, his hair a mess and his coat crumpled. Dean had never seen someone more... astonishing. 

"You're here", Dean exhaled quietly, because- he still couldn't grasp it. Couldn't grasp the idea that _his_ Cas was here. That he still hadn't left him. 

As if he had to prove himself that this was not just some dream, Dean lifted his hand to reach for the other man. It hurt, his whole body was sore, but once he felt the stubble on Cas' cheek he knew that it had been worth it.  

Cas was real. He had come for Dean.  

Bright blue eyes trailed along his face in pure honesty. 

"I'll always be there for you, Dean." 

 

Four days can be hell for a person. 

 

It's ironic how one sentence can he heaven, isn't it? 

One sentence, a few words, aligned und underlined with a meaning that made Dean relax. 

That made him trust that he was going to be okay. 

 

"Thank you", was the last thing he mumbled before the warmth of the bed, the numbness in his mind and the drugs in his body lured him back to sleep. 

Now that Cas was here, Dean knew that he was safe, that he could sleep in peace. 

 

* * *

 

Waking up was easier the next time. 

The drugs wore off, and Dean knew where he was. 

A hospital. 

Safe. 

 

He blinked against the bright lights over his head, adjusted himself mentally to the strange environment. 

 

Cas was still here, Dean realised with an intense relief. He didn't know what he would have done should he- 

The other man was illuminated by the soft rays of the sun that shone through the window. Dean wondered how much time had passed since he had first woken up. He wanted to ask Cas, but stopped as he saw that the other's eyes were glued to a spot behind him. Dean turned his head to the door, careful because of his injuries, and- Bobby. 

His dad was here, scrunched together on the small couch, his face lighting up like the tree they had decorated for Christmas, as Dean met his gaze. 

Christmas had only been one week ago, and yet it felt like it had been ages. 

Dean sensed tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

 

His history with hospitals had been shaky, to say at least. 

The first time he had been in one had been because of a broken rib. He had woken to John telling him that he was Alastair's now. He had woken to John telling him that he had been sold like some object, like he was nothing more than property. He had woken to John telling him that "he could have gotten it worse". 

The second time, he had woken alone. Benny had been his first visitor, patiently coming back every day until Dean had been able to look at him, to communicate in whatever way possible, to relax and if it was only slightly. Two weeks after, he had met Bobby and Ellen and his life had turned so much to the better. And yet- Dean would never forget waking up alone. Afraid. Confused. For the first time in his life there had been no-one to tell Dean what to do and frankly, he hadn't been able to deal with that. In the beginning, his freedom had seemed like the length of a rope for him to hang himself with. 

 

This third time, he had woken to Cas. Woken to Bobby. He knew that his family was here. 

Warmth spread through Dean. 

 

He wasn't alone. 

He'd never be alone again. 

And nobody could take that from him.  

 

Dean exhaled shakily, tried to collect himself. He felt the tiredness tug at him again, felt himself starting to drift off but- he couldn't. He had to tell them. He had to- 

 

Bobby's lips moved, he said something, but Dean was too out of it to capture it. All he heard was the softness, the relief, the love in his father's voice. It was all he had to hear to understand. 

Dean's eye wandered to Cas, then back to his dad. 

If only he knew how to make them understand...? 

 

An idea formed in Dean's mind. 

Slowly, careful because of the bandages that covered him, because of the IV that stuck in his arm, he lifted his hand. Lifted it further until it touched his forehand. 

One word. 

 _Dad._  

 

Then, he laid his hand over his heart, the middle and ring finger into a fist, the other fingers spread out. 

Another word. 

 _Love._  

 

His dad cried.  

He had understood, Dean realised, strangely pleased with his efforts.  

He had understood what Dean wanted to tell him. 

 

Under his tear stained cheeks, Bobby's lips moved again and although he tried to muster up all the concentration he could, Dean only understood the last word. 

"Son." 

Again, it was enough. 

 

Dean nodded, and turned to Cas. 

Cas watched him with wide eyes full of... wonder? Adoration, Dean dared to think.  

 

Fixing him with his a stare, Dean repeated the sign. 

 

Cas was family, too. He was a part of Dean's life, and Dean couldn't imagine being without the other, didn't _want_ to imagine being without the other. He needed Cas, needed the dorky man with the serious expression and the ridiculously exaggerated affinition for books.  

He needed Cas. 

He loved him. 

 

Cas' eyes shone as Dean signed, but he answered without hesitation, adapting his response to the language Dean had chosen for his confession. 

Cas' wrists were crossed over his chest as he nodded towards him.  

Dean huffed a quiet breath. 

 

Leave it to Cas to make him feel happy when he's immobilised in a hospital bed after days of hell. 

 

Unburdened, at least for that moment, Dean allowed his eyes to fall shut again. 

 

* * *

 

  
The third and last time Dean woke that day had been because of loud voices.  

He rose with a start, fear spreading in him.  

Noises weren't allowed, he'd be punished, he- 

 

Dean stared into the eyes of a stranger. 

He clutched his blanket closer to his chest, immediately searching it's comfort, and made himself as small as possible.  

Dark eyes looked at him. 

 

"Mr. Winchester, how nice of you to join us", an oily voice sneered, making Dean flinch violently. 

He wasn't a _Winchester_. Not anymore; he was a Singer now. There was nothing left that connected him to John Winchester except for genes. Absolutely nothing. 

He shook his head intently, glanced around to seek someone to support him. 

 

There was no-one else in the room. 

Dean's heart beat faster and faster, the machine's beeping turning erratic. His eyes widened as the man stood in front of him, and he shrieked back as something was shoved mere inches in front of his face. 

A badge. 

"Mr. Winchester, stay calm or I'll get the nurses to _make you_ calm down", the man threatened impatiently. "My name is Gordon Walker, I'm the leading officer in your case and I'm here to take your statement." 

Dean blinked, his fear filled eyes still fixed on the stranger. Slowly, he raised his hand, started signing in small movements. 

 _My case?_  

 

"Boy, use your voice with me, I ain't doing that voodoo shit", Walker scoffed. 

Dean made himself even smaller, his arms hugging his chest tightly.  

He felt completely at loss. He couldn't- 

 

"Mr. Winchester, I ask you to concentrate so we can both get done with this. As I've said, I'm here for your statement. I need you to recap the events of New Year's Eve for me and what exactly lead to your actions." 

Dean blinked, confused. This hasn't happened the last time he had been in the hospital. Not like this, not- 

"Mr. Winchester", the officer bellowed. "What lead to the previously discussed events?" 

Dean only shook his head, his expression desperate. Even if he knew what he was supposed to say, he wasn't able to. He had no control over his voice, no control over his trembling body. 

"Boy, don't play games with me. You don't want me to add obstruction of justice to your murder charges, do you?!" 

Dean stilled. 

 

 _Murder?_  

He was being charged for, being charged for murder? 

 

His mind started spinning, his vision became blurry, his breath shaking. 

Murder. But he didn't... Or had he... Was he- 

 

 _Red. There had been so much red._  

 _Blood, the annoying voice in his head told him. It had been blood._  

 _The grey, lifeless walls of the cellar were painted with it. It was on the concrete floor. It was on him._  

 _Reflectively, Dean had tried to wipe his hand on his clothes, the pencil still clutched in a tight fist. It had only made matters worse, but he was okay with that. He hadn't felt clean in too long to really care. It was just blood after all._  

 _His leg felt heavy as he had tried to move. It had felt wrong. It had looked wrong, too, the angle bent in a not natural way. It must have been broken, he had realised numbly._  

 _Dragging his foot behind him like an old man, Dean had made his way through the room. The floor was slippery. He had forgotten why, nor did he dare to look down to check. He just wanted to get out._  

 _Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he had shuffled to the stairs. Had shuffled through the wetness. Had shuffled over the body on the floor._  

 _Grey eyes followed him on his way out, but Dean hadn't looked back as he crawled up the stairs. He had only kept going. Kept following the light he had learned to fear._  

 

In the back of his mind, Dean heard a beeping turning erratic. 

He heard a curse, loud noises, footsteps. He heard people coming closer.  

Then, all he saw was darkness. 

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Dean wished he had been raised to be religious. 

He wished he had something to believe in. Something to put his trust in. Something that made him realise that in the end, everything would be alright.  

He wished for an anchor. 

 

Now was one of those days.  

 

He had killed somebody.  

Dean Winchester was a murderer. He had sinned. 

Cas had told him once that he doesn't believe in the idea of heaven and hell. He had said that there were so many spectres, so many shades of right and so many variations of wrong, that it would be impossible to just sort a person into one of two categories. Instead, Cas believes that every person gets what he or she deserves, he had told Dean. Some sort of karma in oblivion. 

Dean had liked the idea back then. Now- now he wasn't sure. 

 

He had killed somebody.  

He didn't deserve any better than hell. 

 

Numbness clouded the following days.  

People came and went. 

His family came and went. They talked to him, tried to touch him, tried to move him. 

Dean just kept staring out of the window. 

 

The world was a beautiful place, he realised one day, just as the sun started to set behind the skyline of the city. The rays of light mirrored in all kinds of red through the window, bathed him and the blank room in a soft colour. Dean couldn't look away. 

If there really was a God, some big man on the clouds looking down at them, then he must have been the one creating this. Creating all this beauty. 

Dean didn't feel like he belonged here. 

His gaze wandered to where Cas was sleeping on the couch.  

He had been blessed with a lot of beautiful people in the last year, Dean realised, all of them beautiful in another way. All of them too beautiful for him. 

 

He had killed someone. He didn't deserve this. Neither the beauty of the sun nor the beauty of the people around him were meant for him.  

 

For their own sake, they should just let him go. Forget him and move on. 

He didn't deserve their love. 

 

* * *

 

Time can be a funny concept. 

Four days with Alastair had felt like an eternity. 

Now, in the hospital, Dean didn't even know how many days have passed. 

 

Cas started growing a beard. 

Mary tried to make him eat some pie. 

Gabe didn't return after a long visit some time ago. 

 

The sun was rising and setting. 

Rising and setting. 

He lost count of how many times that repeated itself. It just did. 

 

Dean had no energy to do anything. The food they gave him became more and more, of which he ate less and less. People, specialists, came by. Dean didn't talk to them. They left. 

He wondered how long it would take them to realise that he didn't want any help. 

 

Murderers don't deserve help. 

 

* * *

 

Outside of Dean's room, his family was quietly talking with his doctor. Their faces were marked with sorrow and desperation. With fear.  

Dean hadn't reacted to them in way too long. 

"What do you mean, there isn't a lot you can do for him?", Bobby was asking the moment Cas joined them. 

Doctor Barnes, who had looked after Dean these past weeks, shook her head with an apologetic frown: "You have to understand that physically, Dean is fine. His bones and the cuts and bruises are healing; they take time, not medical attention. What worries me is his mental condition, though. Dean suffers under severe PTSD, even worse since the incident two weeks ago." 

Sam growled, actually growled at that. How Walker had been able to sneak into Dean's room, they weren't sure until that day. Yet, the damage had been made. All their plans on how to tell Dean what had happened had become null. Their plan to protect him had become null. And Dean- Dean had been nothing but a lifeless shell ever since. 

The doctor hesitated, then she sighed. 

"We have rules here, rules that I have to follow even if I don't agree with them. Should Dean not react within the next three days, we'll have to bring him to the psychiatric ward to be treated." 

Silence followed, shocked stares, gasps. 

 

Ellen was the first to explode. 

"What? You want to- want to lock him away?" 

"You can't do that", added Sam, his gaze fierce. "Dean has a right to be treated here!" 

"He ain't crazy, he just needs some more time", Bobby sounded just as mad. 

"I completely agree with you. Dean needs care, he needs his family, he needs to see that you still accept him. When he can't love himself he needs you to show him that he still deserves to be loved", Doctor Barnes sighed. "I can't change the rules, as much as I wished I could." 

"So, what do we do now?", Cas interjected quietly. 

"Keep trying. You know best what moves Dean." 

"Isn't there-" 

"More?", Doctor Barnes huffed a breath. "Whether he wakes from his trance or not is his decision. We can try to lead him, try to help him, but in the end, Dean has to do the work. He has to fight against the inner voice that allowed him to survive so far. It's... it's a lot that we ask from him." 

"And if we can't...", Ellen's voice sounded shaky, unsure. 

"Dean will be admitted to the closed psychiatric ward on January 19th. A mandatory stay of six weeks will follow, during which you won't be allowed to see him. After that, he will be re-evaluated. He'll be 18 then, but put under tutelage, and since Dean is not adopted but your foster child, you have no say about what will happen with him afterwards. Mrs. Campbell, you might have a chance to gain custody over him as you are his biological mother, but the process could take months- months you don't have. And even then, they might insist on keeping Dean. I... the best solution is to not let that happen to begin with. That's what we have to focus on now." 

"And there's really nothing we can do to...?", Sam trailed off. 

"I'm sorry", Doctor Barnes shook her head. "But I see how you are with him. You'll find a way, I'm sure of it. Should you have any other question, just have the nurses page me. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow during the morning rounds." 

And with another sad smile, she turned to leave. 

Silence fell over the remaining Singer-Campbell-Novak Clan. 

 

"Would it really be that bad?" 

It was the first time Mary had spoken up. Her voice was quiet, but solid. Her gaze kind of absent. 

"Would what be that bad?", Ellen asked, clearly confused and still agitated. 

Mary sighed. 

"The psychiatric ward. I mean, yeah, it would be awful not to see Dean for six weeks. But it could help him, couldn't it? It might be good for him." 

 

Whatever self-control Ellen had left at that point, she lost it right then. 

"Are you serious?" 

"I only want his best-" 

"His best? His _best_? Locking him away, separating him from his family is for his _best_?!" 

"Yes, Ellen. Some distance might be-" 

"I can't believe it. You really have no idea who your own son is, do you?" 

Mary scoffed at that. 

"Don't make this personal, Ellen. He's your son even less than he's mine, remember-" 

"You little bitch. You- I can't even- This is _Dean_ we are talking about! The sensible boy laying in that bed, the boy that doesn't need some cold therapist but someone to love him! Just think about it damn it. The monster that took him kept him isolated for years and you just want to keep doing that? Do you even realise what this would do to him?!" 

"Don't insult me over this! Just because you have to satisfy your hero complex doesn't mean-" 

"My hero complex? My _hero complex_?", Ellen was yelling now, only held back by Bobby's hand on her shoulder. "This is not about me wanting to help _my son,_ this is about you being too comfortable to even try and do so!" 

Mary froze at that. For a second, she stared at Ellen, her eyes cold as ice. Then, she hissed, her voice venomous: "I won't apply for custody. Should he wake up in the next days, I'd be glad, more than glad. I want him to be well, too. But should he not wake up, I won't fight this." 

And within a moment, she turned around to storm away. 

 

Bobby instantly pulled Ellen closer, hugged his wrought up wife. To Sam he said: "Don't you want to follow her? Make sure she's alright?" 

Sam only shook his head, his eyes trailed on Ellen. 

"Mom just needs some time to calm down. She... she doesn't react well to this. She has always thought that she was at fault for Dean's death. That she was at fault for Dean not having a life, a family, the love he deserved. Having him return, not only not remembering her, but being happy in another family- it's harder for her than she shows. I think she's so obsessed with doing things right now that she loses sight of the situation. Just- give her some time to get herself together. She'll be alright." 

Bobby nodded, his hand trailing up and down Ellen's back. 

"The more important matter", Sam continued, "is how we get Dean back. We have tried smells and memories, places and people, have tried it with his art- what do we even have left to try?" 

Silence fell over them as they each recapped the previous two weeks and their previous attempts to reach Dean.  

 

Mary had tried it with apple pie and singing. 

Ellen had tried it with contact, with brushing Dean's hair and telling him little stories. 

Gabe had told him about recipes he wanted to try, had told him about how the bakery was going. 

Bobby had told him about cars and his plans for the Impala. He wanted Dean to drive her one day. 

Sam had brought Dean his painting kit, had tried to create a safe space for his younger brother. 

 

Cas hadn't tried anything specific. 

He had felt helpless. 

Most of the time, he had just been sitting with Dean. Had just been trying to silently take some of the other's pain. Had just been trying to be a companion to him.

 

He saw now, he had failed his duty to help him.

He saw how he had failed Dean.

 

 

 

In the end, it all happened way too quickly.

 

Almost as if it hadn't ever been a problem, the charges against Dean were dropped, Walker was fired and Sam walked around with a very smug smile for a few hours.

 

Mary and Ellen sat down and talked, and even if Cas hadn't been there, he felt the change in their friendship. 

 

 

They said goodbye to Dean. At least for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter only took... two months to be written.  
> I'm terribly sorry for the delay -thank y'all who still stick with this little verse, thank you so much! 
> 
> And of course special thanks to [Whoharps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoharps) for being the best beta I could wish for! You should definetly go and check out their fics :)
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter!


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